Kiss the Enemy (Slye Temp) Read online

  Praise for

  Slye Temp Series

  About LAST CHANCE TO RUN:

  "LAST CHANCE TO RUN…reminded me of Cinderella. Well, if Cinderella was on the run from a maniac killer and Prince Charming wielded a gun and flew a plane. Great read. Check it out!"

  ~~Bryonna Nobles, The Paperback Cafe

  "Brilliant!! Now THIS BOOK is what I LOVE about Romantic Suspense; a gritty suspenseful story AND enough steam to make me squirm (in a GOOD way :) )."

  ~~ Sheryl, Goodreads

  "Dianna never disappoints! … would have give it a 10 if they would let!!! Very enjoyable read, can't wait for the next one :-)."

  ~~ Amy, Goodreads

  About NOWHERE SAFE:

  "This is a lively and action-packed book, full of energy, danger and romance. The love story is tender … the action plot will satisfy the reader's thirst for danger.”

  Catherine Langrehr, IndieReader (as seen in USA Today)

  “I fell in love with the characters in this book. This story is chock full of action, white hot romance, shocking twists and intelligence.”

  ~~Trina, After Dark Rendezvous

  "Don't pick up this book if you only have a small nugget of time because it grabs you by the throat and won't let go!"

  ~~~~ USA Today bestseller, Mary Buckham

  About HONEYMOON TO DIE FOR:

  “Dianna Love pens an exhilarating romance woven with riveting characters and a plot that has more twists and turns than a roller coaster…one of those books that you wish would go on forever.”

  ~~Billie Jo, Romance Junkies

  “…constantly believable and packed with intrigue. HONEYMOON TO DIE FOR is suspenseful yet passionate and totally satisfying.”

  ~~Amelia Richard, Single Titles.com

  “It seems with each book, this series gets better…(Love) has an uncanny ability of always creating wonderful characters that you care about… This was such a beautiful romance, one of the best I have read this year.”

  ~~Barb, The Reading Cafe

  Copyright © 2013, Dianna Love Snell

  KINDLE EDITION

  All rights reserved.

  By payment of required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this eBook. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented without the express written permission of copyright owner.

  Please Note

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The reverse engineering, uploading, and/or distributing of this eBook via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the copyright owner is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author's rights is appreciated.

  Cover Design and Interior format by The Killion Group

  http://thekilliongroupinc.com

  Dedication

  For my husband, Karl, who has always been my champion and is the reason I can chase my dreams. I can do anything with him by my side.

  CHAPTER 1

  Marguax Duke exited first from the unmarked van parked on an empty side street in east Atlanta two blocks from tonight’s target. She lowered her night vision monocular into place as the rest of the six-person team spilled out behind her.

  Black figures melded into the dark shadows and chilly night, all armed and deadly.

  All moving on her intel of a meeting for payoff on a suspected terrorist attack to be carried out in Atlanta.

  Wednesday.

  Today, as in less than twelve hours.

  The meeting was going down in sixteen minutes. Margaux had shared every detail her snitch provided, with the exception of her hunch on who was making that payment.

  At one time, her intuition would have mattered.

  Not these days.

  Sabrina Slye’s voice came through the comm sets everyone wore. “You’re absolutely sure about this intel, Duke?”

  If this was about getting retribution for Margaux’s dead cousin, Nanci, she’d go on much less dependable intel. But this was about stopping a terrorist and she would not walk the team into danger for just a gut feeling. Sabrina had never questioned Margaux’s resources.

  It rubbed that she did now, but Margaux pushed the mic switch clipped to her black molle vest and answered, “Yes.” She spoke in a soft whisper. The throat mic picked up the vibrations, and the sound came clearly through the earbuds of the team. “This came from my number one contact. He’s never been wrong in three years.”

  No one else said a word. Tension pulsed through the silence.

  That was telling in itself when any other time Nick and Dingo would have been ragging on her that she was picking up the beer tab if this was a bust.

  She hadn’t been invited to share a beer in months.

  She added, “This is the same informant who gave us accurate intel on the submarine sabotage we averted in Kitsap last December.” An attack planned for Naval Base Kitsap on the Kitsap Peninsula in Washington, no less.

  “Ten four.” Sabrina’s brisk voice moved on with, “Time check. Oh-one-hundred.” She counted seconds until everyone on the team gave an affirmative.

  Sabrina ran covert teams for secret national security operations under the cover of Slye Temp, an elite corporate security agency. A tough, but fair, leader who had zero tolerance for her agents going rogue for personal vendettas. She’d leveled Margaux with a steely gaze when she’d reminded the entire team of that unbendable rule just ten days ago.

  Message received.

  Stop focusing on the Banker, a broker for international terrorism.

  Ryder Van Dyke’s deep voice cut in on the comm unit. “One vehicle just arrived at Strident Global Imports.” There was a pause while they all waited to hear more, then Ryder said, “No one’s getting out of the car yet.”

  Ryder was team member number seven. He had a sniper position on top of the building across the street from an import company where the meet was expected to happen.

  The snitch had discovered a link between Tio Giovanni, the ruthless leader of a New Jersey crime syndicate, and this import company, which accounted for the location of this meeting.

  What was the mob doing for a terrorist?

  Margaux could feel Sabrina’s gaze drilling through her confidence. She could not screw up the deal she had with Sabrina, the only person left who knew Margaux’s true identity. More than anything, Sabrina had helped her reclaim her life and had known how much Nanci meant to Margaux.

  The team knew Margaux based only on what Sabrina had built for her identity. As for FBI Special Agent Nanci Tyler, the team had only known that Margaux had a rapport with a contact in the agency, but one that had to be kept secret. They understood her loss when Nanci was murdered, but not that it had been like losing a limb.

  Margaux had been spending her off-time—and her money—hunting for the Banker. But when Sabrina finally made it clear that Margaux had to let go of her quest for vengeance, Margaux paid heed, because Sabrina was right.

  The Banker had cost her enough.

  That’s why Margaux had told her snitch she was no longer paying for intel on the bastard.

  Tonight was about protecting innocent people and doing her part.

  If this operation
went sideways, which was always possible with one pulled together this quickly, she would take a bullet for Sabrina or anyone else on this team. Of the six elite operatives in this unit, Margaux was the only one truly expendable. With Nanci gone, no one would mourn her death.

  She shoved that load of guilt back down in the cavity her heart used to fill and checked her Sig Sauer M11-A1 holstered beneath the black windbreaker. Her jacket might look like the FBI type, but hers had no agency initials and this wasn’t a sanctioned government mission.

  Hell, this hadn’t even been a mission eighty-two minutes ago.

  Ryder came back on the radio. “Three males exiting the sedan. One is staying by the vehicle. The other two are at the door of Strident and ... they’re entering the code for the alarm system. No other vehicle yet.”

  That meant the first group was connected to Strident.

  Sweat trickled down Margaux’s back with total indifference to the cold front sweeping Georgia in early May. Adrenaline pumped hard enough through her veins that she was numb to anything as insignificant as the temperature continuing to drop since midnight.

  No mistakes.

  Sabrina’s tone sharpened. “Heads up. Dingo goes with me. White Hawk backs us up at the entrance. Nick’s with Duke at the rear with Tanner as backup.”

  A bad feeling niggled at Margaux, that sixth sense an operative paid attention to if she wanted to walk away to fight another day. Maybe it was a case of doubting herself after Sabrina had questioned Margaux’s intel. She shook it off, getting her head in the game where it belonged when the team needed her.

  Ryder had an update. “Second vehicle parking in the lot. No one exiting yet.”

  “Everyone ready?” Sabrina asked.

  Affirmatives followed all around, but Sabrina would hold off sending them until both men were in the building in case one decided to blow up the other.

  Nick Carrera stepped across Margaux’s line of sight, standing a couple inches taller than her five-ten height. The only part of him showing through the black ski mask was a flicker of white around the eye not covered by his monocular, and his unsmiling mouth.

  Margaux would question Sabrina’s choice for her partner du jour if not for Margaux’s having butted heads with everyone else for months.

  Not that she didn’t like Nick. He was a solid partner and he didn’t butt heads. But Nick played by Nick’s rules and was a bit of a wildcard on a mission. It was hard to say exactly what he’d do in any given situation, but he did make things happen that often defied all probability.

  Of course, he just as often did so in a way that created a lot of chaos along with the positive results.

  Dingo Paddock stepped over to show Sabrina something on his smart phone. The Aussie’s ski mask covered spiked blond hair that looked out of place against skin the color of weak tea.

  White Hawk, a Cherokee female operative and new recruit, stood off to the side. Dark brown hair cut short on one side and chin length on the other framed an oval face with high cheekbones passed down from generations of Native Americans. She was quiet, but in a way that said she was constantly engaged in threat assessment.

  Word was that White Hawk had a knack for languages.

  And for tailing a suspect.

  Nick said she practically turned into a ghost when she shadowed someone.

  Ryder finally said, “Three suspects exiting the second car, leaving one man out front, two heading into the building.”

  Sabrina announced, “Move out.”

  Dingo, White Hawk and Sabrina left as one pack. Margaux, Nick and Tanner Bodine took off in a different direction to approach the building from the rear. Out in public, Tanner was a big rambling cowboy with an easy smile, but at night he could move like the wind when stealth was key.

  Margaux entered a dark stretch of alley that had been used as a john for the homeless if that stink was any indication. She opened up her stride until she reached the tall chain-link fence surrounding the back lot of the global marketing company. Tanner stepped up and snipped an opening large enough for his wide body, which left plenty of room for her and Nick to slip through.

  Sabrina’s hushed voice came through the comm. “Guards at entrance contained. Ryder has confirmation on identity of the New Jersey suspect as Tio Giovanni. Black hair, slender build, five-nine. Both guards positively identified as known enforcers for two separate crime syndicates.”

  Margaux blinked at that news. Dingo could run facial recognition software if he was at a computer and if he had decent images. Had Sabrina sent someone ahead to set up a live feed at the front of the import company? Even so, Dingo didn’t have that access at the moment and Josh Carrington, the other techno whiz on the Slye Team, hadn’t been available tonight. Amanda, the research dynamo Sabrina had snaked from MI6 last year, was on vacation.

  That would mean the images were very likely being sent to Ryder’s personal electronic superpower, an electronic analyst genius at the FBI who also happened to be his wife.

  Sabrina would be pulling out all the stops to confirm as much as possible before sending in agents.

  Tanner hung back as Margaux and Nick approached the building.

  Nick spoke softly, asking, “Alarm status?”

  Dingo’s voice came right back. “All clear, mate.”

  If the alarm had been reset once everyone was inside as a security measure, Dingo had just disarmed it.

  Nick moved silently up the metal steps to the rear door of the warehouse and went to work on the lock while Margaux covered his back.

  When his hand touched her shoulder, she turned to enter a dark space that would be impossible to navigate without night vision gear. She took the lead, weaving her way with soft steps around forklifts and pallets stacked with merchandise covered in plastic wrap.

  She stopped at the corner of tall metal shelving lined up in rows. A mirror set of towering gray structures loaded with inventory ran along the other side of the building, creating a wide walkway down the center.

  There was enough space for two forklifts with eight-foot-wide loads to easily pass each other.

  Or for two men to meet in the center of the building sixty feet away and discuss destroying parts of this city. A single mercury vapor light glowed bluish-white overhead, leaving the rest of the warehouse in pitch dark.

  Nick eased forward and peeked over her shoulder. A guard stood two strides behind each respective boss.

  Margaux assessed the room. Lots of metal angles for bullets to ricochet against.

  But there were only two exits.

  Dread clawed along her neck. Why?

  This felt rushed, which couldn’t be helped since there was no way to plan for when intel would arrive. Besides, this was what Slye Temp excelled at—moving on a hot tip without red tape, then fading into the shadows so alphabet agencies took the credit.

  And taking on missions that stopped powerful criminals.

  Margaux’s snitch had given her pieces of intel that alluded to the Banker making the payoff tonight. But not enough information to say for sure.

  Eight months ago, Sabrina would have been open to the possibility of going after that bastard on a good hunch, but not after a source—translation, Sabrina’s friend in the CIA—said agencies had been tracking the Banker’s ties to international terrorist events for years. According to her source, there was no intel to support the Banker having entered the US at any point in the past or present.

  There were no known photographs of the Banker, and Sabrina’s CIA friend had shared that the Banker was believed to presently be holed up in Germany.

  That settled that, which was why Margaux didn’t bring up the bastard’s name and draw Sabrina’s ire again.

  Margaux’s new goal was regaining the respect she’d once enjoyed before she’d let an obsession make her team think she’d gone rogue. She hadn’t, and no way would she allow her personal issues to end with letting her team down.

  Sabrina ordered, “Stand down. The second suspect can’t be confir
med as a known terrorist.”

  Nick muttered, “Fuck.”

  He took the word right out of Margaux’s mouth. She eyed the two men who were now shaking hands as if their business was concluded. The pause that followed stretched until Sabrina said, “Margaux I need any other intel you’ve got on this guy. Anything else from your snitch I can use.”

  Son of a bitch. Decision time. Margaux swallowed and made a leap of faith, whispering into her mic, “My snitch said this might involve the Banker, but he did not have confirmation. I dismissed that as insignificant since we were told the Banker is not in this country.”

  But the snitch had argued that this terrorist was rumored to have put out a hit on an FBI agent eight months ago for interfering with his operation. That fit the description of the hit on Nanci.

  “What are you saying?” Sabrina asked.

  Margaux regretted all the months she’d focused on the Banker, because right now everyone had to be thinking he was at the core of her investment for this op. She said, “There is a chance the unidentified suspect could be the Banker, which would explain not being able to confirm identification as a terrorist. I didn’t tell you because it was only speculation and that was never the point of this op. This is about stopping an attack on Atlanta.”

  Silence answered her.

  She glanced at Nick.

  He rolled his eyes, an action she was sure the rest of the team mirrored at this same moment.

  Nick didn’t activate his mic when he whispered right at her ear. “How long have you been suicidal?”

  Margaux left her mic off as well to answer him in a hushed voice. “How is this suicidal with an entire team?”

  “I didn’t mean this.” He nodded to the left toward the targets. “I meant stomping on Sabrina’s last good nerve.”

  “I’m not saying it’s him.” She paused, wishing she were anywhere else right now. “But what if it is?” Regardless of what happened eight months ago, if this was the Banker they had the chance to take down someone who brokered the deaths of thousands, and they all knew it.