Read Kiss the Enemy (Slye Temp) Online
Authors: Dianna Love
Kiss the Enemy (Slye Temp) (36 page)
“If you want. If you don’t—” He caught her when she leaped again and squealed, kissing him everywhere she could reach.
He was laughing. “And here I thought you’d miss Atlanta.”
What about her Slye Temp family? She was torn between wanting to be with Logan and losing touch with people she cared about. He’d said she couldn’t go home, but what about Atlanta? She asked, “Uhm, now that you know Sabrina, is there any chance—”
“Yes.”
“You don’t know what I was going to say.”
His eyes twinkled. “Yes, I do. You want to know if you’ll ever be able to come back here. Sabrina and I have talked. I’ll tell you more later, but we’ve agreed to share resources when necessary for a common goal. For a bunch of covert agents, they’ve sure got a mushy side, because I had to threaten your team with bodily harm if they said a word before I got a chance to tell you all of this myself. They know you aren’t leaving them forever.”
If Margaux wasn’t so happy, she’d give them grief over letting her think they were happy she was leaving.
Logan brushed his hand over her hair and smiled with such raw happiness her heart did a flip. He teased, “Sabrina might pay me for taking you off of her hands. We decided that you can be our liaison as well as my better half.”
Margaux stopped and looked him in the eyes. That sounded like some safe, stashed away position. “I’ll never be wife material. I’m not cut out for weddings and staying home or doing normal wife things.”
“Do I look like I’m ready to settle down yet?”
“No, but I don’t want to be left behind or stuck somewhere safe. I’ll be miserable.”
“You don’t think I know that by now?” He turned serious. “It would kill me if anything ever happened to you, but only a fool would try to make you be someone you’re not. I love who you are and how you make me feel. I would marry you in a minute, but if you’re not ready for that I want you with me any way I can have you, Sugar.”
“What about the team?” If she had to be there just because she was the boss’s woman, that was okay because she wanted Logan no matter what. But it would suck to be on the fringes of the work she’d come to love.
“They know about this and they respect you more than you can imagine. I told them I would go solo if they didn’t want this and they all voted to keep the both of us.”
She arched an eyebrow at him. “They want me on your team? Even Moose?”
“Especially Moose. Nobody’s ever had the skill to get the drop on him before. After you put your life on the line for the team, his was the first yes vote.” He grinned. “Just don’t taze him again.”
Could a heart burst from happy overload? She was willing to test hers. “I love you, Logan.”
“I love you, Sugar.”
“You have to take me just the way I am.” She needed him to understand. This man was all she wanted and needed, but she was no prize. Nothing, according to her father.
“I wouldn’t change a thing. You’re exceptional.”
Looking into his eyes, she felt as special as he made her sound. But she wasn’t through negotiating. “And no sticking me with pansy-ass assignments.”
“Whatever we have to face, we do it together,” he told her, using the words she’d given him in the jungle when they escaped.
She shuddered at that memory. “But no more jungles.”
He kissed her cheek and whispered, “Not this week.”
What?
Acknowledgements
No author creates without a great support team and I have the best, starting with my husband, Karl, who has always believed in me and makes it possible for me to do what I love – tell my stories to the world.
Cassondra Murray is on the front line with me for every story, vetting out early versions and reviewing the last pass through for those significant edits that every story needs, but an author is too close to see at times. She sees things that never fail to amaze me. Thankfully, she enjoys traveling with me and makes every trip a pleasure, always doing anything possible to give the readers a great event.
Steve Doyle is so generous with anything I ask for help on. We are very blessed to have men and women like him who have put themselves between us and danger to keep us safe and free. He shares his vast knowledge gained as a Special Forces soldier to improve my action and black ops scenes plus he is amazing when it comes to any discussion on weapons. On top of that, he reads the stories, giving important feedback. Any errors are my own.
I so appreciate USA Today bestselling author Mary Buckham (
www.MaryBuckham.com
) who brainstorms with me during the year when she isn’t writing on her own
Invisible Recruit
series.
Every story needs beta readers. I am so thrilled to have Joyce Ann McLaughlin read my stories in the “not quite finished” stage and share her fedback that gives me ah-ha moments while also making me smile over her encouraging comments. Manuella Robinson has read my books since the first one I wrote, back before anyone knew I was writing. She’s always willing to read something quick and give me her honest opinion, for which I am so thankful.
Once the story has made it through beta reads, Judy Carney handles the first copy edit read to catch those word gremlins that sneak in. It’s always a joy to work with her.
Thanks to Kim Killion who recently redesigned the covers for my entire Slye Temp series that I LOVE! Thanks also to Jennifer Jakes who takes all the text I send her in a bunch of files and formats a book from it that can be released.
Any mistakes made or adjustments for fiction are my own, because every one who helped me went above and beyond the call to give me the best information.
Thanks also to Leiha Mann, Su Walker and the RBLs for supporting all authors!
Here’s a shout out to Barbara Vey (
www.BarbaraVey.com
) who connects authors and readers everywhere she goes and to to Sara Reyes of
Fresh Fiction
for all that she does for readers and authors everywhere. Love and appreciation goes to my amazing
Dianna Love Street Team
who support me all through the year. If you’re interested in joining my team, just stop by my Facebook page. If you’d like to contact me, email cassondraATauthordiannalove.com or snail mail to Dianna Love, 1029 N. Peachtree Pkwy, Suite 335, Peachtree City, GA 30269 ~
www.AuthorDiannaLove.com
About The Author
New York Times bestseller Dianna Love once dangled over a hundred feet in the air to create unusual marketing projects for Fortune 500 companies. The first book she wrote won a RITA® Award and sold out in six weeks. She writes high-octane romantic thrillers, releasing four novels in the Slye Temp series during 2013. To collect “signed” cover cards for free, visit
www.KeeperKase.com
When not in the writing cave, Dianna is touring the country on her BMW motorcycle. She lives in the Atlanta, GA area with her husband, who is a motorcycle instructor, and a tank full of unruly saltwater critters.
http://www.AuthorDiannaLove.com
For Young Adult Fans – check out the explosive new sci-fi/fantasy series by Micah Caida, starting with
Time Trap
(February 2013).
Read an excerpt at
http://www.MicahCaida.com
A WORD FROM DIANNA:
“Thank you for reading my books. I hope you enjoy the Slye Temp series. Visit
http://www.AuthorDiannaLove.com
to find all my books. If you have a moment to leave a review at the online bookstore, GoodReads, BookLikes, Shelfari or anywhere else I’d really appreciate it. And please visit me on Facebook at Dianna Love Fan Page and on Dianna Love Street Team where I hope you’ll join the team!” To collect free “signed” cover cards, visit
www.KeeperKase.com
Dianna
***
Slye Temp romantic suspense series reading order:
***
Another Slye Temp romantic suspense
LAST CHANCE TO RUN
(Book 1)
To an undercover agent, she’s a Person of Interest. He’s interested.
Escaping the compound of a deadly international felon--with a fortune in rare, stolen coins hidden on her body--elite athlete Angel Farentino has to make the most important run of her life. Literally. With her father in prison, where he belongs, and a prior undeserved conviction hanging over her head, she has nowhere to turn and no one to trust. Definitely not law enforcement who railroaded her through a judicial nightmare. One step ahead of lethal men and dogs on her trail, she runs into the arms of a dark stranger willing to help her if she’d let him. But that would only get the sexy pilot killed.
Between figuring out who’s sabotaging his undercover work for the DEA and trying to save his baby sister from herself, Zane Jackson has enough on his plate. The last thing he needs is to get entangled with a woman who’s treading on the wrong side of the law. But when the long-legged distraction races into the middle of his operation and stows away on his plane, a primal need to protect forces Zane to risk everything, starting with his heart.
***
A SNEAK PEEK AT
LAST CHANCE TO RUN
Lightning crackled nearby. Close, but not close enough.
Escape tonight or ... there was no second option.
“Come on, God,
please
.” Angel whispered the desperate prayer for the hundredth time since midnight. But lights still burned through Mason Lorde’s opulent compound where she’d been imprisoned for the last ten days.
She had to get over this compulsion about being honest. The last time she’d done the right thing, she’d landed in a real prison with a warden and crazy female inmates threatening her life. That had been thanks to her father.
One more thing she had to get over. Trusting any man.
Wind howled across the beveled panes, rattling the French doors and sounding cold when August weather was anything but.
“I should have asked for a hurricane instead of a thunderstorm,” she muttered under her breath. But hurricanes weren’t as prevalent along the North Carolina coast as lightning storms. All she needed was a brief power outage. Not that she had any reason to believe in divine intervention at this point in her life.
A short life if she didn’t get out of this place now.
She rolled a golf-ball-shaped compass in her hand, a dangerous stress reliever. She’d stolen it from his office, and to hell with any guilt she felt.
It would get her fingers snapped like twigs if Mason caught her with his solid gold desk toy.
No chance he’d let her off easy.
She’d learned that the hard way. Just like everything else in her life.
Mason Lorde, her dream employer. The bastard had turned into her worst nightmare. But with a conviction in her past, who could blame her for jumping at a chance for a job with a highly reputed firm? Assisting the manager in one of the warehouses for Lorde’s revered import enterprise beat cleaning toilets or scavenging aluminum cans any day.
She’d thought.
Brilliant light flashed across the heavens, illuminating the edges of the brass bed at her shoulder. She glanced at the burgundy silk duvet covering the lump she’d built with pillows. Would that gain her an extra minute?
Maybe. She hated maybe. Reminded her how often her worthless court-appointed attorney had spouted that word.
Maybe you’ll receive leniency for a first offense.
Maybe you’ll get out early on good behavior.
Neither happened.
Maybe
men would stop screwing her over at some point, but she wasn’t counting on that, either.
Angel consulted her black plastic sports watch.
In sixteen minutes Kenner would begin his two a.m. round.
On the dot.
Unlike the rest of the security, the knuckle-dragging commander now in charge of Mason’s thirty-room mansion lacked any tolerance. Kenner had been brought in from another of Mason’s locations to replace Jeff, who’d overseen the property for the past ten years, according to his last screaming words.
He’d pleaded for his life.
Then Mason had ... nausea rolled through her stomach.
Another glance at her timepiece. Fifteen minutes, forty-eight seconds left.
She reached for the doorknob, desperate to flee, but paused short of touching it. She had no allies beyond patience. It wasn’t as if Kenner would repeat Jeff’s mistake. Poor Jeff, too slow on the uptake to be hanging with a bunch of killers. He’d smoked one too many cigarettes a week ago while she’d scurried down the Italian marble hallways in a fevered attempt to escape.
One of the other guards had caught her.
Mason didn’t tolerate mistakes. He’d ordered everyone to witness Jeff’s punishment. Angel, in particular. She still had bruises from where she’d been dragged outside and shoved up front for the show being performed for her benefit.
The citizens of nearby Raleigh would never believe what went on inside this private compound belonging to one of their most prominent city businessmen.
Just over six feet tall, with thick golden hair and a champion’s physique, Mason, the Nordic antichrist, had calmly raised his .357 magnum revolver to Jeff’s head and squeezed the trigger.
A deafening explosion. Then blood.
So much blood
.
She clenched her fists. The horror lived on, burned on the insides of her eyelids.