The latest novel in the fast-paced romantic suspense series from New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Rebecca Zanetti is a perfect blend of sexy chemistry and Deep Ops intrigue, exploding “with action, spice and humor,” (Publishers Weekly). Will appeal to fans of J. D. Robb and Karen Robards.
“Zanetti is a master of romantic suspense.” –Kirkus Reviews
Enigmatic. With a wildly gifted mind, and an untamed head of hair to match, petite powerhouse Millicent Frost is brilliant when it comes to gadgets and electronics—less so with people. After an attempt to bust a bank scam goes awry, Millie is in hot water with Homeland Security and targeted by lethal enemies. In the midst of the trouble, she heads home to help out with the family hunting and fishing business. But when their rival competitor and Millie’s ex is murdered, she’s the number one suspect . . .
Irresistible. Former Marine turned lawyer Scott Terentson devotes himself to getting his clients out of tricky binds. A loner, the last thing he wants is to belong to any team, yet the Deep Ops group considers him one of their own—and he pays the price by getting shot at by their enemies. Now Millie is seeking his help—just as he’s dealing with a brutal fail regarding a recent trial. Both are a headache, yet he’s drawn to Millie in spite of himself. They’re opposites, but maybe the old adage is true . . .
Electric. Working together, Millie and Scott soon have more on their hands than they bargained for as the danger escalates—along with the sizzling heat between them. And when a disappearance is thrown into the mix, all bets are off . . .
Praise for Driven
“Zanetti still makes time to dig into her characters’ psyches in the midst of the action, adding nuance to the exciting plot.” --Publishers Weekly
“The story moves fast, and there’s an unexpected twist or two, as well as a scene-and-booze-stealing German Shepherd that provides a little levity to this dark and satisfying romantic thriller.” –Bookpage
Release date:
January 2, 2024
Publisher:
Lyrical Press
Print pages:
304
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When Millie Frost burst onto the scene, I just knew she’d be a delight to uncover. And aren’t we all thrilled that Scott didn’t let the shadows claim him after taking that bullet for Angus earlier on? Whew! Thank you for diving into their tale. There’s a whole squad of amazing people who helped bring this book to you, and if I’ve missed anyone, please know it’s my head, not my heart.
Massive love and thanks to my incredible family - Big Tone, Gabe, and Karlina. You guys have been my rock, supporting me while I scribbled away in carpool lines, during practices, and even on those crazy family vacations. I adore you all and have so much fun reliving my college days through you. Sometimes I get all misty-eyed thinking about the days when you kids needed us to cart you all over the place. But wow, just look at you all now! I’m beaming with pride and awestruck by the amazing humans you’ve become.
A resounding thank you to my exceptional agent, Caitlin Blasdell, who has been my cornerstone and guiding star through many books and series. Your unshakeable support, priceless wisdom, and tireless advocacy have been the backbone of my career, and your editorial insights are nothing short of brilliant. I’m endlessly grateful for your companionship on this wild ride.
A monumental thank you to my phenomenal editor, Alicia Condon, who has diligently scrutinized every single word across a multitude of books, magically transforming my rough drafts into polished masterpieces. Your discerning eye, astute feedback, and relentless dedication have elevated each and every book to a higher level.
A heartfelt thank you to everyone at Kensington Publishing: Alexandra Nicolajsen, Steven Zacharius, Adam Zacharius, Lynn Cully, Vida Engstrand, Jane Nutter, Lauren Jernigan, Barbara Bennett, Elizabeth Trout, Arthur Maisel, Renee Rocco, Kristin McLaughlin, James Walsh, Jennifer Chang, Sasha Gross, and Sharon Turner Mulvihill. Thanks also to Jim Dorohovich, who came up with the perfect name for this series as well as how to improve on a Moscow Mule (change out vodka for Maker’s Mark).
A gigantic thank you to my amazing assistant, Anissa Beatty, who has been the wizard behind the curtain, managing my social media and running my Facebook street team, Rebecca’s Rebels, with unparalleled efficiency and flair. Your tireless efforts allow me to connect with readers in ways I never thought possible.
A heartfelt thank you to my Beta readers, Rebels Madison Fairbanks, Kimberly Frost, Heather Frost, Leanna Feazel, Asmaa Qayyum, Suzi Zuber, Jessica Mobbs, and Joan Lai.
A heartfelt toast to my steadfast support system and cherished family and friends, who have stood by me through thick and thin, book after book. Your constant encouragement, kind words, and unwavering belief in me have been a source of strength and inspiration. Special thanks to Gail and Jim English, Kathy and Herb Zanetti, Debbie and Travis Smith, Stephanie and Don West, Jessica and Jonah Namson, Chelli and Jason Younker, Liz and Steve Berry, and Jillian and Benji Stein.
Prologue
With four cups of coffee swirling in his gut, Scott Terentson rode the elevator up to the third floor of the investment bank, trying to banish the headache climbing from his neck to his skull. The elevator music was like the slow slicing of a knife across his nerves, but he kept his expression bored and his body relaxed. The residual pain of last year’s gunshot wound echoed through his chest as always. He’d been in the hospital followed by PT for more weeks than he could count, so he just ignored the pain.
The door dinged open with a triple tinkle and he stepped onto plush, light blue carpet, facing a wide mahogany reception desk. There was so much woodwork around him, he wanted to puke. Instead, he plastered a smile on his face and strode up to the twentysomething behind the counter.
“Can I help you?” she asked politely, looking serene in a light beige suit and white shell.
“Yes, I’m here to see Werner Dearth.” The guy definitely had too many r’s in his name. “I’m Scott Terentson.”
The young woman, her dark hair pulled back in a severe bun and gold-framed eyeglasses covering pretty green eyes, lifted both eyebrows. “Do you have an appointment?” she asked in the way of corporate gatekeepers everywhere.
“No, but if he has half a brain, he knows I’m coming.” More elevator music droned in the background, and he wondered how she didn’t go crazy in this somber space.
“I see.” She lifted the phone to her ear. “Hi, Gladys. There’s a Mr. Scott Terentson here to see Mr. Dearth.” She listened. “Very well. Thank you.” She hung up. “Mr. Dearth will see you now.” She pointed toward the closed doorway to the left of the reception area.
“Thank you,” he said as a buzzer echoed and the door unlocked. He pushed it open to find a dark-haired woman in a red Chanel suit waiting for him. Her hair was up in a bun, and she wore no-nonsense, gray spectacles. “Mr. Terentson?”
Who else would it be? “Yes.” He kept his tone polite.
Her gaze raked him, instantly taking in his Armani suit and green power tie. Pink tinged her cheeks and she warmed, smiling. “Very well. Mr. Dearth said to bring you on back.”
“Thanks.” Yeah, he’d worn the suit on purpose.
She ushered him through the hushed hallway with closed office doors and conference rooms on either side. The top floor of the investment banking firm had been done in a clean, modern design with a beige-and-gray color scheme to lighten all the mahogany.
He paused at an open doorway and glanced inside a mechanical room, and his body was electrified as a woman looked up. He blinked once. She blinked twice. She wore a light gray uniform with a logo for Al’s Heating and Air Conditioning on the chest. Wild silver and gold streaks threaded through her temporarily red hair, probably from celebrating New Year’s Eve a few days before. Her eyes shimmered a startling and unfathomable blue. What the hell was HDD Agent Millicent Frost doing playacting as an air conditioning repair person?
“Mr. Terentson?” Gladys asked.
He turned to her. “Oh yes. I thought it was a little chilly in here.” It was damn right freezing.
“Yes.” She threw up her hands. “There’s something going on with the air conditioning. Hopefully they’ll have it fixed soon.” She raised her voice enough to be heard in the next office.
Millie rolled her eyes, grabbed a wrench, and returned to whatever she was doing.
Fascinating. Scott followed Gladys to the corner office, where she knocked quietly.
“Enter,” a booming voice said.
Gladys smiled, interest in her eyes, as she opened the door for him. “Here you go.”
“Thank you again,” he said with as much charm as he could muster. His mind still reeled at the sight of Millie.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Dearth asked.
Scott shut the door and advanced toward the man sitting behind the desk. A sprawling view of DC stretched out behind him. “You demanded an inventory of my client’s jewelry, shoes, and, ah, what was it? Yeah. Purses.” He sneered the last, even though he knew a few of those handbags were worth more than most cars.
“I wanted Julie to bring them.” Crimson darkened Dearth’s full cheeks.
“Too bad.” Scott yanked an envelope out of his breast pocket and tossed it on the desk.
Werner Dearth looked like a wealthy banker, with his polished silver hair, sharp brown eyes, and ten-thousand-dollar suit. It was black and he didn’t wear a tie. His belly hung over his pants, but he was still a broad man who could probably wrestle a full-grown bull if he wanted. Right now, his cheeks showed a ruddy tint, and his gaze a lethal sharpness. He reached for the envelope. “If she thinks she’s keeping any of this, she’s crazy.”
“She’s retaining her personal property, and I expect full disclosure of your liquid assets in addition to any real property you haven’t divulged as of yet.” The judge wasn’t messing around with either party in this ridiculous divorce, but Scott’s private investigators hadn’t yet found the information he needed. Dearth was good at this.
Dearth shoved the envelope in the bottom drawer. “I wanted to speak with my wife and go over this list with her.”
Actually, the man wanted to torment his wife. “She isn’t going to meet with you alone ever again,” Scott said smoothly.
Dearth’s nostrils flared. “Your client’s a real bitch, you know.”
“Your soon-to-be-ex-wife is one of the kindest people I’ve ever met,” Scott returned. She was also very good friends with his mother. “You breached the prenup and cheated on her.”
“Prove it.”
So far, Scott had been unable to do so. Anybody with information was more afraid of Dearth than Julie or even the judge. Right now, his entire case came down to he-said, she-said, and that was no way to go into court. “How about you stop being an ass and finish this thing?”
“Because she needs to pay,” Dearth sputtered.
“That sounds like a threat,” Scott said. “We all know that you cheated on your wife with an eighteen-year-old.” One who had conveniently headed off to backpack around Australia, leaving her phone at home. “Just settle this and move on with your life.” The last thing Scott wanted to do was put his client through a trial, especially since he had a proof problem.
“Like I said, prove it,” Dearth said, his jowls moving. “I’m leaving that witch with nothing.”
Not if Scott had anything to do with it. “You sound like a blowhard.”
Dearth looked him up and down. “I investigated you.”
How freaking boring. “So?”
“You’re supposed to be an excellent trial attorney, but you don’t do divorces. Is my wife doing…you?”
What an asshole. “Let’s just make this a fair and amicable split, shall we?” He normally wouldn’t touch a divorce with a fishing rod, but his mother had asked for a favor.
“I don’t think so.” Dearth frowned. “I will ruin her before we end this.” He shrugged, moving his jiggling belly. “I don’t think you have the chops for a real divorce trial. Since it’s my third, I do.”
Scott would have to schedule depositions, then. He didn’t have time for this. “I’ve been playing nice so far, but that just ended. Do you get me?” He stared directly into the man’s eyes.
For the first time, Dearth paused. “Yeah.”
Scott had been a marine before he’d become a lawyer, and right now he was just pissed off. He didn’t have many pet peeves, but somebody wasting his time shot right to his shit list. Add the fact that the jerk was an ass, and he shot right to the top.
A knock sounded on the door and Gladys poked her head in. “Mr. Dearth, your two o’clock is here.”
Scott turned and strode toward the door, looking over his shoulder. “I’m more than happy to meet you in court. In fact, I prefer it.” With that, he swept past Gladys, noted the door to the mechanical room was closed, and walked to the elevator to ride back down.
Dearth would prolong this stupid case just to mess with Julie. Shy and kind, she didn’t belong in a courtroom. Scott shook his head, his headache increasing in force as he walked across the main floor and outside into the chilly January weather.
He’d somehow managed to claim a parking spot just a few yards down against the curb, so he walked to his SUV and leaned against it, waiting. About half an hour later, Millie Frost walked out, still in her cute little uniform. She caught sight of him and shook her head. He gestured toward the passenger side of his car.
She lifted her chin and started to walk away.
“Millie. I’ll make a scene,” he said quietly.
She halted, turned, then walked around to climb into the passenger seat, ducking down and slamming the car door. He could feel her eye roll but not see it.
He slid onto the driver’s seat. “The windows are tinted dark enough that you won’t be spotted by cameras.”
“You know I’m on a case,” she said with a cute huff. “You’re a miscreant, Terentson.”
“That seems to be the general consensus.” He started the engine and pulled away from the curb. “Did you leave a vehicle nearby?”
“I planned to take the bus,” she retorted.
He had no problem rescuing the pretty blonde from public transportation. “Do you want me to take you to headquarters?” The woman worked for the Homeland Defense Department.
“Yeah, that’d be great, considering you could’ve blown my entire case.” She crossed her arms.
“What were you doing in the bank, Millie?” he asked.
She looked out the window. “None of your business.”
She was probably one of the most intriguing women he’d ever met. She looked like Tinker Bell and acted like Q from the James Bond series. She was the gadget expert at the HDD and more specifically for Angus Force’s Deep Ops team, the team that had gotten him shot. But every once in a while he helped them out anyway.
“What were you doing in the bank?” he asked again.
“I can’t tell you that and you know it. It’s an ongoing investigation,” she replied. Her captivating, thick blond hair curled naturally to her shoulders. She barely came to his, adding to her compelling allure. She was a powerhouse in a very small package. With eyes as blue as pure sapphires and a notably pert nose, she captivated attention. When he leaned close enough, he could see a tiny smattering of freckles across it. He could admit to himself that he’d been intrigued by Millicent Frost from the first time they’d met. She unfortunately did not like lawyers, and he knew that because she had told him so herself.
He tried again. “I don’t want to mess with your investigation, but I am representing Werner Dearth’s wife in their divorce case, and the guy’s a cad. Can you tell me anything about his finances?”
“Nope.”
He pushed down irritation. “Come on, Millie. Just give me something. He’s treating his soon-to-be-ex horribly, and his wall of lawyers want to destroy her.”
“Stupid lawyers,” she muttered. “Fine. I can’t divulge anything about his finances. However, I will tell you that his secretary was blowing him before you arrived.”
He jolted. “Gladys performed oral sex on Dearth in the office?” Gross. Just gross.
“Yep. I accidentally opened his door while looking for the AC unit. Good ole Gladys perched on her knees. But that’s about all I can tell you.”
Hmm, that was a start. “Thanks, Millie. I appreciate it.” He pulled up to the HDD headquarters in downtown DC. “Are you still working with Angus and the gang?”
“Not on this one.” She looked down at her hands. “I’ve been assigned elsewhere as I’m undercover for a bit.”
He didn’t like the idea of her out there on her own. The woman needed a team to back her up. “Just exactly what kind of bugs were you planting?”
She looked at him, her eyes guileless as she opened the door. “Planting? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He wasn’t happy she was a good liar, yet he knew she was lying, so maybe she wasn’t that accomplished. “Would you like to meet for dinner sometime?”
She hopped out of the vehicle. “Are you still a lawyer?”
“Yep.”
“Then not a chance.” With that, she exited his car and slammed the door, leaving the faintest scent of sweet magnolias behind.
Chapter One
Two months later
She wanted to kill Scott Terentson.
Millicent Frost sat in the witness chair, trying to keep from fidgeting. The wooden backrest felt like a hard iron bar that made her back ache all the way up to her neck. For some reason, even though it was only March, the heat in the courtroom had been turned off. She did her best not to shiver her rear end off; it was not yet nine in the morning.
The judge was a man in his sixties with thick gray hair, bushy eyebrows, and beady brown eyes. She disliked him on sight. The bailiff was a tall woman who seemed efficient and economical with her movements. Millie liked her. It was a bench trial, so there was no jury; at least she had that going for her.
That was all she had going for her right now.
Being back in a courtroom after all this time made her stomach churn. Hopefully the restroom was close.
The two lawyers spoke in hushed tones to the judge, gesturing wildly as she sat there and tried to listen. They argued over part of her testimony; the questions she refused to answer.
She took a deep breath and reminded herself that she was a grown-ass woman who knew how to blow up a boat with frayed twine and an old toaster, not a scared eight-year-old being kicked out of another foster home because she wanted to take apart engines rather than play with dolls.
Scott Terentson and his client, a stunning woman in her fifties with thick black hair, commanded one table, while the investment banker Werner Dearth and his lawyer, a high-powered-looking woman in a bright red suit, occupied the other table.
Unfortunately, in the rows of benches behind them sat HDD Special Agent Tom Rutherford, her immediate boss. As usual, he was dressed impeccably in a blue suit with a white tie. No expression marked his face, but heat rolled off him like steam from a volcanic vent.
Scott Terentson had probably just gotten her fired.
She wanted to march across the well and punch him in the nose. It’d be nice to make a lawyer bleed—especially that one.
Memories assailed her of all the lawyers through the years, those working for the state, who wanted her to keep trying foster homes instead of living with her aging great-aunt, until Aunt Mae was the only option. They’d kept her from happiness.
Damn lawyers.
The judge whispered something to the two attorneys, then everybody dispersed as if they’d been in a huddle and called, “Go team.” She failed to read Scott’s expression as he returned to his seat behind the table. His tailored suit gave him the look of a model—one too smooth for her taste.
She liked broad shoulders and muscle. Period.
“Now, as I was saying,” the attorney for Mr. Dearth started. Named Lorraine Balbit, her style exhibited smoothness and calculation. Millie could normally anticipate the direction of an argument, so she tried to trace the pattern of the questions. It didn’t bode well for her.
Lorraine cleared her throat. “So again, you snuck into Werner Dearth’s place of business to spy on him for Julie Dearth and the government, correct?”
Millie swallowed. “No.”
Lorraine stepped back. “Wait a minute. You do work for the government, do you not?”
“Yes,” Millie said. She might lose her job, but she was not going to commit perjury.
“So why were you dressed as an air conditioning repair person on the day in question?” The lawyer pointed to a screen that showed a picture from the bank’s security cameras of Millie in her bulky uniform.
There was no way out of this. “I’m sorry,” Millie said, “but I am not cleared to speak about an ongoing investigation.” In the audience, Rutherford dropped his head to his hand.
“Ongoing investigation?” The lawyer pounced. “Please tell me more.”
“I just said that I couldn’t,” Millie said evenly. She’d never forgive Scott for this.
Lorraine looked at her client, then back at Millie. “Is the bank under investigation…or is my client being targeted?”
“Again, I do not have clearance to speak about an ongoing investigation,” Millie said.
Scott stood. “Objection, your honor. The defense is going beyond the scope of direct examination. The witness was subpoenaed to testify as to what she personally witnessed, more specifically that she saw the defendant engaging in oral sex with his secretary, in clear violation of the prenuptial agreement. Period.”
Oh, Millie never should have said a word to that asshat about what she’d seen.
“My client denies the slanderous accusation, and has a right to understand the reason for the witness’s presence in his building, and more importantly, why she’d lie for the plaintiff’s attorney.” The lawyer tapped very red nails on her lip. “My questioning directs toward bias.”
“Objection overruled,” the judge said, sounding bored.
Lorraine smiled. “Let’s see here, then. So we know from your earlier testimony, Agent Frost, that you work for the HDD.”
“Yes,” Millie said.
“And you’ve been known to work with Angus Force and his team, have you not?”
Millie didn’t like where this was going. “Yes, I have worked with many teams during my time with the HDD.”
“Many teams. How old are you?” Lorraine asked, her tone mocking.
“I’m twenty-nine.” She appeared younger than her years, but she figured someday that would be an advantage. Right now, it didn’t seem to be.
The attorney reached for a file and click-clacked on her four-inch heels across the well of the room. “Isn’t it true that the attorney for the plaintiff has also worked with Angus Force, and what I understand is informally called his Deep Ops team?”
“I believe so,” Millie said.
The lawyer looked up at the judge and then down at Millie as if she couldn’t believe it. “So you’re telling us that you and the plaintiff’s attorney were not working together in order to entrap my client or, to put it rather more bluntly, blackmail my client into relinquishing his rightful share of property in this divorce?”
“I’m not working, and I have not worked, with the plaintiff’s attorney in pursuit of this divorce case.” Even the judge displayed a frown.
“Hmm. I’ve got to tell you, I don’t think I like government personnel being used in this type of corruptive manner.” Lorraine tsked.
Scott straightened his lithe body. “Is there a question there?”
“Yes.” Lorraine moved closer to Millie. “How long have you and the plaintiff’s attorney been lovers?”
“Objection.” Scott shot to his feet. “Foundation, badgering, and damn bad taste.”
The judge lowered his chin. “Objection sustained. Watch yourself, Ms. Balbit.”
Lorraine’s gaze remained on Millie. “I have to ask. Why do you have green streaks in your blonde hair?”
Millie sat back, her ears ringing. “Tomorrow is St. Patrick’s Day.” Duh.
The lawyer chuckled, and the sound was both throaty and kind of sexy. “I see. So you expect us to believe that even though you and the plaintiff’s attorney have worked together for the government, you were both at my client’s office on the same day for different reasons?” She clicked a button and a new picture came up of Millie and Scott outside on the day they’d met, then the screen advanced to show her getting into Scott’s car.
The man had pretty much blackmailed her into accepting a ride.
“Yes,” Millie said. “I didn’t foresee running into Scott at the office building, and I don’t see how he could’ve possibly known I’d be there the same day.”
“I find that so very hard to believe. Why did you leave together in his vehicle?”
Millie’s stomach cramped again. “He said he’d throw a fit on the street, and I didn’t want to blow my cover.”
Scott’s gaze hardened.
Lorraine looked delighted. “Excellent. Now, let’s go through this again.” The woman then proceeded to question Millie about everything from her job to her qualifications to her relationship with Scott. By the end of the testimony, Millie almost believed she’d not only been dating Scott but had tried to set up Werner Dearth with him.
Finally, the judge excused her.
She walked out of the courtroom, a headache brewing behind her eyes. This marked a calamity. Rutherford waited for her, looking big and broad and way too polished in the dark hallway. Along the ceiling, at least five lights had gone dark.
“This is devastating,” he confirmed curtly. He enjoyed a higher rank in the agency, and he had a standing as one of the Deep Ops handlers. The man didn’t like any of the members.
A knot of tension balled up inside her. “I know.”
“You just told our prime suspect that he’s been under investigation.”
“Agent Rutherford, the minute Scott Terentson subpoenaed me as a witness in this case, Werner Dearth must’ve known he was a suspect.”
Rutherford sneered. “Now nothing will happen. We’re not going to get him on tape, and all those people whose money he stole will go without justice.” His perfect face flushed red.
She blinked. It was the most emotion she’d ever seen from her HDD handler. “I had to tell the truth.”
“Of course. But you shouldn’t have gotten in that car while on duty, Agent Frost.” His chin lowered.
He was right, and she didn’t have a defense for her actions. “I’m sorry.”
“Too bad.” Rutherford’s eyes blazed. “I’m going to run this up the chain, and I will be in touch.” He turned on his very polished loafer and stomped down the hallway and out into the overcast day.
Millie flopped onto a wooden bench, leaned her head back, and took several deep breaths. She normally loved her job, especially when she worked with the Deep Ops team. This undercover op had been her big chance. She’d been nearly guaranteed a promotion, which meant she could’ve chosen the team as her permanent spot, in addition to making more money to send home to Aunt Mae, who needed it.
How was she going to help her great-aunt without a salary? The woman had saved Millie, and she couldn’t let her down.
All she’d done was talk to Scott that day in January, but she did get into his car, and she had been wearing her uniform. She hadn’t considered that anybody would look at those surveillance tapes since she was undercover as an AC repair person—while actually planting surveillance equipment allowed via a valid warrant.
Dearth must’ve been watching Scott on his company’s CCTV thread. God, she was an idiot.
She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, but soon the door opened and Scott and his client strode out. The woman hurried into the bathroom, sniffing loudly. Millie looked up. “I take it the judge didn’t like you?”
“The judge hated us all,” Scott said wearily, sitting so close to her she could feel the warmth from his body. “I’ll appeal, but my client might’ve just gotten screwed. I think the judge might be friends with Dearth, but I can’t prove it.”
“You screwed me,” Millie said. “I think I just got fired.”
Scott jerked. “Come on. The HDD can’t be overreacting to that degree?”
“Yes. You have ruined everything.” She closed her fingers into a fist, surprised at how badly she wanted to punch him. “Lawyers are the worst, and you’re at the bottom of that oily bar. . .
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