text: Kelly Abell Sealed In Lies Sample Chapter 
   
   
     
   Chapter 1 
   
   
     Jack Weaver stood naked on the terrace staring 
  out into the glorious Colombian sunset. He tossed 
  his Gerber Trident combat knife from hand to hand. 
  He had been in tight spots before but the situation 
  he found himself in now left him with one hell of a 
  decision to make. 
     “Raul?” A sultry voice came from the bedroom 
  behind him. 
     Jack responded to his undercover name. “Si?” 
     “What are you doing, lover? Come back to bed.” 
     She whined in Spanish and patted the silken sheets 
  on the monstrous king size bed. “We have hours yet 
  before the dinner party.” 
     Jack walked back into the bedroom continuing to 
  toss the wicked looking blade as he glanced at the 
  luscious dark haired beauty stretched catlike on the 
  satin maroon comforter. She was the most beautiful 
  woman Carlos had sent him to date. They had just 
  completed a kick ass round of hot sex and he 
  wished he could go one more round, but he 
  wouldn’t be able to concentrate.  
     He could leave now and wreck six months of excellent undercover work trying to bring down the largest and most dangerous drug cartel in Colombia, or he could stay and ignore a planned assassination attempt on the life of the new President-Elect on Inauguration Day. 
     He placed the knife on a walnut dresser, which 
  matched the four-poster bed. The beauty of the hand 
  carved richness of the wood and intricacy of the 
  design was not lost on him. He appreciated fine 
  things, including the woman watching him now. 
  Jack approached the bed, much like a panther 
  approaching its prey. He crawled onto the bed 
  beside her and patted her beautifully rounded 
  derrière. God, she was gorgeous. 
     “You have to go Angelina. I need to get ready for 
  the party and I can’t do that with you lying there 
  looking good enough to eat.” 
     She stretched and reached for him. “Just one more 
  kiss, Raul. Then I’ll be a good girl and go.” Jack 
  leaned in and kissed her on the mouth. She wrapped 
  her arms around his neck and pressed her soft 
  breasts against his rock hard chest. “That’s more 
  like it,” she purred. 
     Jack, known only as Raul Ramirez to Angelina, 
  broke off the kiss and unwound her arms from his 
  neck. “You really do need to go. If all goes well 
  tonight, I will send for you and we will pick up 
  where we left off. I’m going to take a shower and I 
  want you gone when I get back.” Jack stood 
  abruptly and crossed the thick Persian carpet to the 
  bathroom. He felt her eyes watch him as he went, 
  but he heard her slither off the bed. He left the 
  bathroom door open so he could hear her when she 
  left. 
     When he heard the door to his suite close, he 
  turned on the shower. Steam began to rise as the hot 
  water streamed onto the shiny black tile. This is a 
  hell of a mess, Jack thought, soaping his nearly 
  perfect body. His long black hair streamed past his 
  shoulders as the shampoo was rinsed away. The 
  muscles he scrubbed were well defined and solid, 
  signs of a disciplined mind. His role as the chief of 
  security for one of the most powerful drug cartels in 
  Colombia gave him many privileges, some of which 
  he would miss if he chose to go, but instinctively, 
  he knew what he had to do. He stepped out of the 
  shower and wrapped a fluffy black towel around his 
  waist. He stared into the mirror. 
     The reflection revealed a tall man finely 
  proportioned and well toned. He slicked back his 
  wavy hair into a ponytail and tied it with a leather 
  thong. He took a moment to study his reflection. It 
  was a face he’d begun to accept as his own with 
  premature creases lining his thirty-two year old 
  forehead. The high cheekbones, the slightly pointed 
  nose, and the square jaw belonged to him, but the 
  black goatee and the jagged scar that ran from his 
  right temple to the bottom of his ear did not. 
  Brilliant green eyes filled with worry stared back 
  at Jack from the mirror. Those eyes reminded him 
  of the ocean in Fort Lauderdale, where he grew up. 
     These eyes, like the rest of him, lied. Their color 
  today wasn’t even close to the natural chocolate 
  brown he’d been born with, courtesy of his Cuban 
  mother. Jack placed both hands palms down on the 
  smooth marble surface. Why did these things 
  always happen to him? 
     Jack Weaver, a.k.a., Raul Ramirez had been in a 
  lot of uncomfortable places, and done a lot of 
  uncomfortable things. First a Navy SEAL and then 
  working for the CIA, Jack saw more than any man 
  should see, but no matter where he was, from an 
  Iraqi desert to a drug lord’s palace on a Colombian 
  mountain top, Jack got the job done. Currently, a 
  CIA operative working on special assignment for 
  the DCI Crime and Narcotics Center, Jack was 
  gathering evidence in order to shut down one of the 
  most active drug cartels in Northern Colombia. 
  Posing as Cortez’s chief of security, Jack knew all 
  there was to know about the operation and had 
  enough criminal evidence to lock Cortez up for 
  many lifetimes. He only wished he had more time. 
  He might be missing the one piece that would lock 
  the case up tight and prevent some slick lawyer 
  from flushing a year’s worth of work down the 
  toilet. 
     Jack was used to tough decisions. He made them 
  every day. Why then was this one so hard? He knew 
  why. Normally he only had one mission. That made 
  the decision easy to make. This time he had two 
  options, both of which were equally important. He 
  was going to be forced to choose. Jack paused midstep on his way back into the bedroom. Or would 
  he? 
     Jack went to his laptop on the nightstand. Because 
  he was head of security, it only took a few key 
  strokes to disable the cell phone monitoring device 
  at the mansion. Pulling his overnight bag from 
  beneath the bed, he took his cell phone out of a side 
  pocket in the bag, the untraceable one he only used 
  for true emergencies. He punched in a number and 
  waited for her to pick it up. 
     “Hello? Jack?” 
     “Yeah Lucy, it’s me. Listen, I don’t have much 
  time to talk but I need you to do something for me. I 
  mailed some discs containing vital information to 
  my P.O. Box in D.C. I need you to go pick them up 
  and copy them. Put one set in a very safe place. I 
  will call you in a day or two and tell you what to do 
  with the other set. You got that?” 
     “Yes, I’ve got it, but what’s going on Jack, you 
  sound really troubled. I can hear it in your voice” 
     “That’s because I am.” Jack began to take clothes 
  out of his dresser and toss them on the bed. He 
  pulled out two pair of jeans, some green and brown 
  camouflage pants and four t-shirts. He stuffed them 
  into the overnight bag. “Lucy, I uncovered some 
  really bad shit down here. I can’t talk about it on an 
  unsecured line. I also have to ask you for your 
  complete confidence. Don’t tell anyone I’ve called 
  you or that I said there was trouble with the 
  assignment. I will hook up with you later because I 
  am coming back to the States tonight. Just do what I 
  told you with those discs. It’s very important. I’ve 
  got a feeling all hell is going to break loose where I 
  am now.” He sat down on the soft comforter. 
     “Okay, Jack. I’ll copy the discs and keep them 
  safe. You just take care of yourself. I love you. Call 
  me when you get back.” 
     “I will, Lucy. Thanks for everything. Talk to you 
  later.” Jack hung up. He reached over to the laptop 
  and with a few more keystrokes reactivated the 
  satellite monitoring device. Becoming chief of 
  security for a drug lord was not without sacrifice 
  but Jack was the best and sacrifice was no stranger 
  to him. The kills he’d performed for this scum bag 
  would keep most people up at night but not Jack. In 
  life there was law and there was justice. Doing what 
  he could to prevent drugs being sold in his home 
  country was his primary mission and bringing down 
  the largest cartel in Colombia would put a serious 
  dent in the trade. It probably wouldn’t stop it but 
  Cortez supplied thousands of dealers and Jack could 
  save thousands of lives. He just hoped what was on 
  those discs would get the job done. 
     He glanced over at the overnight bag. Leaning 
  over it, he sighed deeply. He would miss the luxury, 
  and he would miss the women. Jack groaned. Oh 
  God, how he would miss the women. How many 
  jobs do you get that come with free sex just by 
  asking? Being Chief of Security came with more 
  danger than Jack liked to think about, but the perks 
  sure made it worth it. He smiled as he thought about 
  Angelina’s hot body. Yes, definitely worth it, but 
  Jack was nothing if not committed to his job and his 
  country. With the information he possessed, it was 
  likely he would be arrested if he did not act upon it. 
     He had a great deal of data to de-code and analyze 
  in a short window of time. The inauguration was in 
  January and it was already November. To save the 
  President-Elects life he must go home now. He just 
  hoped Lucy would do as he’d asked and copy the 
  information on the cartel that he was sending to her. 
  If he could complete his assignment here and save 
  the future President’s life, he would consider that a 
  job well done. 
     Jack looked into the half packed bag and took 
  inventory. He laid the knife he retrieved from the 
  dresser gently on the burgundy comforter and 
  picked up the small digital camera and two discs 
  that were lying next to the bag. He unzipped the 
  hidden liner at the bottom of the bag and slipped his 
  treasures inside. If Carlos Cortez’s men discovered 
  these discs he was a dead man. 
     Jack shook his head. It didn’t matter now any 
  way. After he’d discovered the secret files that 
  described the sketchy details of what a man calling 
  himself the Emperor planned to do to President- 
  Elect Michael Hardy, Jack could not trust this 
  information to anyone until he got to Washington. 
  He would just turn in what he had on the cartel and 
  pray it would be enough. 
     His impromptu plan was to leave tonight after this 
  swanky party Carlos had cooked up. Word was 
  there was some hot shot American looking to make 
  a deal with Cortez; a really big deal. Jack wished he 
  could stay around and grab that information from 
  the computer in Carlos’s inner sanctum tomorrow, 
  but there was no time. He planned on using one of 
  his many other aliases to get out of the country, and 
  by this time tomorrow night he would be back in his 
  own apartment in Washington D.C. 
     Jack tossed in some underwear and a few 
  toiletries. He zipped the bag closed and slipped it 
  beneath the bed. No sense having a maid poking 
  around in here and raising questions. He knew 
  Carlos had no plans to travel for the next few 
  weeks. If she saw his suitcase packed and ready to 
  go she would alert the rest of the staff and he would 
  be questioned. He used his foot to kick the bag 
  further under the bed, definitely not a good idea for 
  this to be seen. 
     Jack looked at his Rolex. Ten minutes until show 
  time. He put on some underwear, his tuxedo pants 
  and the freshly starched shirt. He reached for the 
  black bow tie. He struggled with it in the mirror. 
  Damn it, he hated these things. He always struggled 
  with getting them straight. After three attempts and 
  a mouthful of curses, he finally succeeded. 
     Strapping on the shoulder holster, he inserted his 
  beloved SIG P-226. Raising his pant leg he picked 
  up the knife from where it lay on the goose down 
  comforter and slipped it into its custom made 
  sheath. Lowering his pant leg he patted the leather 
  sheath for good luck. That knife and the SIG were 
  the only partners he’d ever needed or wanted. 
     Straightening, Jack picked up his jacket from the 
  chaise lounge. He stood for a moment near the 
  double French doors, which led out onto the stone 
  balcony where he’d watched the sunset earlier. It 
  was the most beautiful view Jack had ever seen. He 
  looked through the beveled glass onto the 
  mountains beyond. From just beyond the manicured 
  gardens he could see the peaks and valleys of the 
  mountainous terrain. On calm nights you could hear 
  the calls of the wild life from that balcony. He liked 
  the solitude of the dark and the sounds of the night. 
  It settled him. He would miss that. 
     It was on that very balcony, working on his laptop 
  in the middle of the night, he found The Emperor 
  file. In addition to being a highly trained killer, Jack 
  excelled with technology. He frequently used his 
  laptop to hack into Carlos’s computer in the inner 
  sanctum, a name Jack gave to Carlos’s private 
  office. He discovered the plot quite by accident. 
     Being the curious sort, he tried to access the file. It 
  was naturally encrypted with several layers of 
  protection, but no match for Jack’s extraordinary 
  skill. He out shined the tech people Carlos had 
  working for him by a long shot. He quickly worked 
  his way through, peeling away layer after layer, 
  until he had access. What he found made his 
  patriotic blood run cold. 
     Walking away from the window, he slipped the 
  jacket on and buttoned it. He sighed again. It fit him 
  like a glove. Yes, he was going to miss all the welldesigned clothes, gourmet food, and the gorgeous 
  women, but he had a duty to serve and protect his 
  country. If he didn’t figure out the identity of this 
  Emperor character and resolve this plot to kill the 
  President-Elect, then everything he stood for would 
  be for nothing. He had not been trained by the best 
  and become the best at what he did by sitting back 
  and ignoring trouble. Now that he knew Michael 
  Hardy was in danger, it was his duty to protect him. 
  Lucky for Jack, Carlos kept some records of 
  transactions with The Emperor, but there were 
  pieces missing. Within a few hours, Jack read 
  enough about the elaborate plot to kill the President 
  of the United States on his Inauguration Day, but he 
  lacked vital information on who was involved and 
  where the hit would occur. It could be during the 
  ceremony or one of the many elaborate balls that 
  followed.  
     One additional piece of information Jack uncovered shocked him. Another name was listed in the transaction records, Senator Warren Walters. He 
  had a code name as well, Asno, jackass in Spanish. 
  Jack had smiled at that. He agreed with Carlos’s 
  assessment of the Senator. Warren currently served 
  on the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence and 
  was a former SEAL teammate of Jack’s. Jack 
  snorted, thinking of Warren; yes, he had to agree 
  with Carlos’s pet name, Asno. Jack wondered why 
  Warren’s name appeared in the file. Being the 
  current Vice President elect, he would step in if the 
  President died. Coincidence? No, Jack didn’t 
  believe in coincidences. 
     When Jack finished that night, he had just enough 
  information to feel confident that the hit was 
  planned and being carried out. Now, the trick was to 
  return safely to the states and try to link everything 
  he found together in order to bring down Carlos 
  Cortez, his drug cartel, Warren, and the Emperor. 
  First though, he had to get through tonight. Jack 
  had spent all day prepping his staff. They were 
  going to run metal detectors at the door, keep armed 
  guards patrolling the perimeter closer to the house, 
  and keep another team of armed guards at the gate. 
     Something big was going down in Carlos’s study 
  tonight and afterward there was to be a celebration. 
  Jack hated these “celebrations” because it usually 
  meant a long night and he had a flight to catch. 
     A sharp knock on the door snapped Jack to 
  attention. Old military habits died hard. “Carlos is 
  ready for you, Raul.” 
     Jack replied in flawless Spanish. “Be right down, 
  Miguel.” Jack took a last look in the mirror, wishing 
  he could shake the sense of foreboding that plagued 
  him since he’d uncovered the file. Maybe it was the 
  information he had on this Emperor, and the fact 
  that it bugged him not knowing what role Carlos 
  himself was playing in this little dance with the 
  devil. He just couldn’t put his finger on it, but 
  something wasn’t right. He just felt it. 
     Softly closing the door to his room, Jack 
  proceeded down the elaborately decorated hallway 
  to the back elevator. He still marveled at the 
  artwork that lined the walls. Carlos had a fondness 
  for American painters, particularly Jackson Pollock. 
     A few paintings by Pollock hung on the walls along 
  with some other famous American artists. Jack 
  couldn’t see what all the fuss was about. Looked 
  like spilled paint on canvas to him, but what did he 
  know? 
     He silently made his way down the carpeted 
  hallway. He waited patiently for the elevator that 
  would take him down to the first floor and directly 
  into Carlos’s personal office; a totally secure room 
  and the only place in the compound not covered 
  with security cameras. There could be no visual or 
  auditory record of what went down in the inner 
  sanctum. Jack had seen money exchanged in that 
  office that would make Warren Buffet wince. 
     The elevator doors slid silently open and Jack 
  stepped into the study. He entered the room from 
  the back and began his scan. His training taught him 
  to complete this task in seconds. He saw Carlos 
  seated at his desk leaning back, smiling and relaxed. 
     The man accross the desk turned to face Jack. His 
  eyes widened in shock. Nothing could have 
  prepared him for this. 
     “Hello, Jack,” the man said, in English. 
     Jack saw Carlos’ head whip around at the use of 
  his given name. “No, you must be mistaken,” 
  Carlos, said to the man, his eyes suddenly wary. 
  “This is Raul Ramirez, my number one man. He is 
  the one I’ve been telling you about.” 
     The man in the wing back chair stood and reached 
  his hand into his jacket. “No, Carlos, he’s MY 
  number one man. This is Jack Weaver; he works for 
  me in the CIA.” 
     It all happened so fast. Anger flooded Carlos’s 
  expression as he began to reach under the desk. Jack 
  knew what was under that desk and without 
  thinking he reacted. He whipped his SIG out of his 
  shoulder holster and fired. Carlos’s head snapped 
  back and then fell forward, brain matter spattering 
  all over the expensive mahogany desk and the 
  window behind it. A soft thud sounded as the gun 
  Carlos grabbed from under the desk hit the thick 
  carpet. 
     The man across from the desk turned gun in hand. 
  “Nice shot, Jack. You’ve taken care of one problem, 
  but I’m afraid you’ve created another.” The man 
  rose and started to reach into his jacket. In a split 
  second Jack fired again. The bullet caught the man 
  square in the chest and exploded out his back. The 
  force of the shot tumbled him backward over the 
  chair. 
     Jack had to act fast. Within seconds his men 
  would be through that door. They didn’t have keys 
  and were told only to break the door down if they 
  heard something unusual. Gun shots, would be 
  unusual. 
     Jack ran to the fallen man and grabbed his gun. 
  He aimed at Carlos’s messy brain and fired again. 
  Placing the gun back in the man’s hand he stood for 
  a few seconds. Think Jack, think. Acting quickly, 
     Jack reached into the leather sheath at his ankle and 
  withdrew his knife. He already heard the banging 
  on the study door. He only had a few seconds. 
  Somehow he had to make his men think he’d been 
  attacked. Rushing back around the desk he turned 
  Carlos’ body to face the direction of the man on the 
  chair. Coming back around the desk he knew what 
  had to come next. Gritting his teeth against the pain, 
  Jack plunged the six-inch knife into his thigh just 
  above his knee, skillfully avoiding the artery. He 
  swallowed the cry that threatened to escape and 
  nearly fainted from the searing pain. Bile rose into 
  his throat and he let it come. He vomited all over 
  the expensive carpet. That should make it more 
  believable, he thought grimly. 
     Falling to his knees, he had barely seconds to look 
  into the man’s cold dead eyes before the study door 
  crashed open and Carlos’s entourage of security 
  burst into the room. Jack stared at the man who had 
  taught him everything he knew, the honorable, Kent 
  Larson, Deputy Director of the CIA. 
   
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   Text: Printed in the United States of America ALL RIGHTS
  RESERVED. No part of this book may be reproduced or
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  quotations embodied in reviews.
  Publishers Note: This is a work of fiction. All names,
  characters, places, and events are the work of the author’s
  imagination. Any resemblance to real person, places, or
  events is coincidental. This title is available in both e-book
  and paperback from Hearts on Fire Books. Ó All rights reserved. Publication Date: July 5th 2009 https://www.bookrix.com/-kellyabell