Covert Vengeance Page 23

  Excitement shot through her, because those particular three notes meant only one thing. “Lady Ada found something,” she blurted, grabbing her phone from atop the picnic basket.

  Jesse groaned and settled back against the blanket to watch her. “This is so not romantic.”

  “It is to me,” she argued. Humiliation momentarily forgotten, she read the message.

  Yes, this is it.

  A satisfied smile curved her lips, and she distractedly tapped Jesse’s leg. “Hurry. I need to check this out.”

  Back at the manor house, she found Kiyomi sitting out in the garden with Trinity.

  “How was the picnic?” Kiyomi asked. The bruising in her face was almost gone. She’d come out of her shell a bit more since Amber had gotten back, but she seemed to be most comfortable hanging around with Trinity. Maybe because they had similar training and backgrounds as seductress operatives.

  “Good.” Amber hid a smile as she thought of her and Jesse eloping someday. She could picture it. The two of them standing in a field or a garden somewhere, maybe here at Laidlaw Hall. Megan would be there to witness it, and maybe Ty as well.

  “Rudely interrupted,” Jesse put in, carrying the basket through the door into the kitchen. Her gorgeous and insanely sexy man. What an incredible thought. How had she gotten so lucky? “She got a hit from Lady Ada, and that was that. She ditched me right then and there.”

  Not exactly, but it was a hell of a lot better than saying Megan had seen them—

  Nope. That needs to be deleted from memory.

  She blew out a breath and headed straight for the stairs, all but bursting with excitement and happiness. Everything she’d never known she wanted was coming true, the promise of even more was on the horizon, and it was incredible. “I’ll let you know if there’s anything important.”

  But if it was what she thought it was, then it was definitely important.

  Lady Ada had pride of place on the antique desk near the window in the bedroom she and Jesse were now sharing. Amber opened her up, went through her usual security measures, and opened the new files.

  Various news reports and chatter popped up, about a thread she’d been monitoring closely. In her efforts to find the missing Valkyries, she’d put all her resources and investigative skill to use. And this new evidence seemed pretty damn conclusive to her.

  Amber smiled at the grainy image on screen. “Hey there. Finally got ya.” At least, she thought she did. She’d have to double check with Megan and Kiyomi to be certain, however.

  After verifying everything to the best of her ability, she called the others in. Jesse leaned against the edge of the desk to watch while she pulled up all the pertinent files, while Kiyomi, Trinity, and Megan, fresh from the stables, gathered around. Amber was glad not to have to look directly at her sister, and would avoid doing so for a while.

  “What’ve you got?” Megan asked, crossing her arms, the sweet scent of hay and horses clinging to her.

  “Been tracking various feeds and sources over the past few weeks, to see if we can get any leads on the others. And I think I may have found a certain demolitions expert we’re interested in.”

  Megan’s expression brightened. “Chloe?”

  “You tell me.” Amber pulled up the picture. She’d had to enlarge it. It was grainy, but distinct enough that they should be able to get a positive ID. “Is that her?” She was ninety-seven-percent sure it was. The woman in question was around five-seven, a hundred-and-forty pounds or so with long, honey-blond hair pulled back into a ponytail.

  Megan braced a hand on the desk and leaned forward to peer at the screen. “It looks like her. Where did you say this was from?”

  “Moscow, last night. Time stamp says it’s about forty-five minutes after that precision bombing that took out a known sex trafficker working in the area. The third one of its kind over the past two months,” she added, pulling up the various feeds showing stories about other known criminals dying in a similar way.

  Megan chuckled and eased back into a standing position. “Ah, good for her, cleaning up the garbage.”

  Trinity leaned closer. “So it’s her?”

  “It’s definitely her,” Megan confirmed.

  Amber shared a triumphant smile with Jesse. With a positive ID and her last known whereabouts, they could go after her. And he would be there every step of the way, to help in any way he could. She loved him to death for that.

  “One thing you guys should all know up front before we bring her in,” Megan said in a tone that made them all to look at her.

  “What’s that?” Trinity asked.

  Megan’s expression was fond, a slight smile tugging at her mouth as she stared at the picture on screen. “Chloe’s crazy.”

  —The End—

  Dear reader,

  Thank you for reading Covert Vengeance. I hope you enjoyed it. If you’d like to stay in touch with me and be the first to learn about new releases you can:

  • Join my newsletter at: http://kayleacross.com/v2/newsletter/

  • Find me on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/KayleaCrossAuthor/

  • Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/kayleacross

  • Follow me on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/kaylea_cross_author/

  Also, please consider leaving a review at your favorite online book retailer. It helps other readers discover new books.

  Happy reading,

  Kaylea

  Excerpt from Explosive Vengeance

  Vengeance Series

  By Kaylea Cross

  Copyright © 2019 Kaylea Cross

  Chapter One

  Chloe Wilson tugged at the hem of her pearl gray suit jacket and checked to make sure her hair was still securely wound into a tidy bun at the back of her head before turning the corner and entering security camera coverage of the target building. Pausing on the sidewalk outside the entrance in the cool October night air, she adjusted her black-framed, fake glasses, her stage makeup disguising her true appearance.

  Go time.

  To ensure this meeting happened in total privacy, it was after hours. Situated in the center of Paris’s business district, the building was all but deserted, only a single security guard stationed at the front desk.

  She used her security pass to scan herself in. The guard glanced up from his work to study her for a second, then went back to looking at whatever he was reading as she passed by on the way to the elevator.

  The meeting room was on the nineteenth floor, the floor-to-ceiling windows framing an incredible view of the lights of Paris. Her target was already waiting for her in the private conference room next to his office. Like everything else Dominic Dubois owned, this place was sleek, expensive, and paid for with money made from the criminal empire he and his brother ran.

  “Ah, Gabrielle. Right on time.” A fit, attractive man in his early thirties, Dominic rose in his custom-made suit and walked to the antique sideboard to help himself to a drink. “Brandy?”

  “No, thank you.” She set her briefcase on the table and sat. This was their third meeting, and she knew the layout of this entire floor—including all security measures, entry and exit points—by heart. There were no cameras in here. Because Dominic Dubois carried out his most private business transactions here. Things he didn’t want a record of or anyone else to know about. Which was perfect for her.

  He didn’t realize the biggest threat to him and his empire was in the room with him right now.

  Chloe held his stare, a sense of power and triumph rising inside her. The Valkyrie Program might not exist anymore but she was still running ops because she believed in what she was doing and had enough money put away to live on for the time being. This was her time now. She’d chosen to spend it delivering the kind of karma to evil people that the universe hadn’t, spreading out her targets with time and distance to mitigate the chance of being identified and captured.

  Sipping his brandy, Dubois leaned back against the sideboard and crossed his an
kles, completely oblivious to what was about to happen. “You’ve got the documents ready?”

  The fake contract authorizing the sale of twelve women he had smuggled into France several days ago, mostly from French northern Africa. Chloe didn’t know where they were and she needed to find out if she was going to have a chance at saving them.

  “Yes.” A rush of power surged through her as she watched him coolly, maintaining the ice queen businesswoman persona she’d used to infiltrate his organization to get to this point. She’d only attended a handful of meetings in person because she hated them, and preferred to work anonymously. It added to her mystique, something Dubois ate up.

  He stared at her for a long moment, expression unreadable, then pushed up from the sideboard and crossed to the door behind her. The sound of the lock turning put her on instant alert as he turned to face her.

  His dark brown gaze was shrewd. Cold as he measured her. “Remind me, Gabrielle. How long have you been working for Monsieur Roche?” Her fake boss who supposedly loved buying women sold into slavery, and then dispersing them across the globe to brothels and clients who paid top dollar.

  She kept her expression passive, all the while reviewing her contingency plans for the best exfil option if this went sideways. Dominic was clearly suspicious. Why? “Three months.” Her cover had been set up with the help of a female friend united in their cause to rid the world of scum like the man before her—men who got rich off the suffering of the women they sold like farm animals.

  “Three months,” he mused. “And yet, in all that time, my people haven’t been able to find out much at all about you. Until now.” His stare hardened. “Chloe.”

  It took everything she had not to show her reaction to hearing her real name. Inside, cold spread through her gut. How did he know her name? How? She frowned at him in confusion. “My name is Gabrielle.”

  His mouth twisted. “Liar.” He whipped a hand into his jacket and came up with a pistol.

  Chloe exploded out of the chair, hurling it right at his head. He barely had time to raise his arms to protect himself before it slammed into him, knocking him sideways. Chloe was on him the moment he hit the floor, wrenching his wrist up and back. He let out a yelp of shock and pain as the weapon tumbled to the carpet.

  His gaze shot to hers but she was already jamming a needle into the side of his neck. His eyes widened. “You—”

  He never finished that sentence. The dosage in the syringe was powerful, already making him slump over. He wouldn’t lose consciousness, would remain aware of his surroundings, but unable to move.

  “You’ve been a very bad boy,” she said, straightening to slip the syringe back into her interior jacket pocket. “But guess what? The party’s over now.”

  She dragged him from the room to the elevator reserved for his private use. The one without security cameras so no one else knew who he came and went with—or who he was smuggling in and out of the building. This freaking idiot might think he knew who she was, but he clearly didn’t, or he never would have met with her alone.

  She pressed his limp palm to the biometric scanner next to the door, shoved his face into the screen for the retinal scan, then hauled him inside and rode down to the private parking area beneath ground level. He made a garbled sound, lying in a crumpled heap at her feet.

  Chloe drove him home in his own vehicle, leaving a voice text for her contact on the way. “Compromised. Picking up precious cargo. Meet me at the place in one hour.”

  The luxury townhome Dominic kept was in the Arrondissement de Passy, one of the wealthiest areas in all of Paris. This was his private domain, where even his security was not permitted access. She parked in the garage, entered the code she’d memorized into the security system, and dragged him into the spacious, spotless kitchen before getting to work.

  By the time he woke up, bound and pinned spread eagle to the wall, she was back in her usual wardrobe of tight, black cargo pants and long-sleeve shirt, her hair pulled into a long ponytail at the nape of her neck. The charges were in place, and she’d pulled the precious cargo from the upstairs bedroom that served as a prison.

  “Can you talk yet?” she asked him in a bored tone.

  Though she was anything but bored. She was pumped, and more than ready to end this evil, privileged asshole’s reign of terror.

  Dubois blinked several times, agitation clear on his face as he tugged at the nylon ropes keeping him immobilized. A worm, wriggling on a hook. “What the fuck do you want?” A tremor of fear shook his voice.

  “I’m so glad you asked.” She stepped up to him, stopping close enough to smell his expensive cologne, and put her face inches from his. “I want to destroy you, Dominic. Starting with taking the money you’ve made off selling women.”

  He bared his teeth, looked like he might spit at her, so she slapped him across the face, cracking his head to the side. “Fuck you,” he spat, his eyes promising murder. “I’ll fucking kill you.”

  She laughed in his face. “I’m not the one dying tonight. Now. How do you know my name?”

  “I know everything,” he spat.

  Nope. He couldn’t. But unfortunately she didn’t have time to interrogate him about that further. The clock was ticking. She needed to get this done and be out of here within the next twelve minutes if she was going to make it to the RV point in time with the woman.

  Turning her back on him, she strode to the island where she’d left her tablet, then spun back around to face him. “I’ve got your secret stash account information right here. You’re going to give me your password, so I can transfer the money in it to me.”

  He gave a derisive laugh. “I’m not telling you shit, bitch.”

  “No?” She drew her pistol, aimed at his thigh, and fired.

  He screamed as the bullet ripped into his leg, writhed in his bonds and snarled more threats at her.

  She gave him a cool stare, unmoved by his pain. “I’ve got a full mag here, Dom. I’m fully prepared to use every shot and then some to get this done if necessary. It’s up to you. How many holes do you want punched in your oily hide?”

  “Fuck you,” he gasped out. “Fuck you, you—”

  Chloe drew her knife from the scabbard on her thigh and hurled it at him.

  A high-pitched scream rent the air as the knife buried to the hilt in the wall an inch beneath his open groin. His eyes were wide, full of terror and shock as he stared first down at it, then back up at her face. “You’re fucking crazy,” he snapped.

  He wasn’t the first to say so. And he wouldn’t be the last. “Yeah, I am. So, we doing this? Or shall I keep going?”

  His chest was heaving now and he was pale, looked like he was going to be sick as blood dripped down his pants and onto the spotless marble floor. “You won’t get to keep the money long enough to use it,” he snarled, his eyes glazed with fury and pain. “You’ll be dead before you can spend a single Euro.”

  “We’ll see about that.” She raised an eyebrow, then her pistol. “Password.”

  He gave it, snarling more obscenities and threats. Chloe tuned them all out as she made the transfer, satisfied only when the thirteen million landed in the account she’d set up specifically for this.

  “Pleasure doing business with you.” She tucked the tablet into a pocket on her thigh and looked over her shoulder at the woman huddled in the far corner of the kitchen. “Kaya, you can open your eyes now. It’s done.” She waited until those wide, dark eyes focused on her, the terror there twisting her heart. “I need you to go pack one small bag, quickly, and come right back down. Do you understand?”

  Those wide, frightened eyes remained locked on Chloe. But she nodded. “Oui.” She pushed to her feet, shaking, then shot a panicked look at Dubois and fled upstairs.

  “You can’t take her,” he rasped out, still bleeding all over his pretty floor. “She’s mine.”

  The man was delusional. He was about to die, and that’s what he was worried about? “She was never yours, you sick
psychopath. And she’ll never be yours again. Her or any other woman. Because you’re a dead man.” She stalked over to yank the knife out of the wall, paused with the blade against his groin and enjoyed the flash of stark terror in his eyes.

  Kaya reappeared a minute later, a tiny bag in hand, her gaze darting between Chloe and Dubois. Chloe gave her a reassuring smile. “Time to go.” Kaya had been terrorized far too much already. She didn’t need to see the rest of this.

  But before she left Dubois to his fate, she couldn’t resist one last parting shot. She took a moment to study him, helpless and bleeding on the wall. “You’ve been playing with fire, and now it’s your turn to get burned. See you in hell.”

  His threats and shouts of rage followed them into the garage. Chloe put Kaya in the front passenger seat of his Audi, then reversed out into the street and shut the remote garage door. “Close your eyes,” she told Kaya as they drove away.

  When the woman did, Chloe slipped the small detonator out of her hip pocket and pressed the button.

  The resounding thud of the explosion reverberated in her chest. She glanced up at the rearview mirror to check her work.

  The windows on the main floor were aglow with flames, smoke already pouring through the shattered windows. On either side of the townhouse, the only damage to the neighboring buildings was some broken glass.

  Perfect, she’d calculated it just right. No one else would be hurt. The fire crews would arrive shortly to prevent the fire from spreading to the other buildings, but the heat of the incendiary material she’d used would ensure Dominic Dubois was little more than ash by then.

  Kaya wrenched around in her seat to look out the back window, then stared at Chloe. “You…killed him,” she whispered, her voice shaking.

  “Yes.” And she wasn’t sorry. “You’re safe now. I’m taking you to a friend who will look after you. She runs an organization that takes care of women escaping from this kind of situation.”