by Kaylea Cross
“You like keeping me on my toes, huh?” Life with her would have its ups and downs and more than its fair share of danger. But it was worth it, because she was worth everything. And life with her would never be boring.
“You know I do.” She smiled down at him, her eyes gleaming with mirth and an unholy mischief he recognized all too well. “Stick with me, babe. It’ll be a blast.”
—The End—
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Kaylea
Excerpt from
Toxic Vengeance
Vengeance Series
By Kaylea Cross
Copyright © 2020 Kaylea Cross
Chapter One
Sevastopol, Crimea
Serving platter in hand, Eden paused by the kitchen doorway to survey the elegant dining room beyond the threshold. The place was unbelievable.
Over the course of her career she’d conducted all kinds of missions in various places, but none of them as over-the-top as this. It was ostentatious. The cutlery was gold plated, and the enormous crystal chandeliers hanging over the thirty-foot-long mahogany table each cost as much as a high-end luxury sports car.
At the middle of the table, a peacock preening in the midst of the dinner guests, sat the man she was here for.
Target acquired.
Notorious Turkish arms dealer Serkan Terzi. He was the guest of honor tonight, wined and dined in the utmost luxury by a Russian admirer he sometimes did business with. Weapons and drugs, mostly. Sometimes people—vulnerable women and girls.
She had crossed paths with him before, when he’d been on the perimeter of her radar during previous ops. Through her handler, the U.S. government had sent Eden to eliminate various targets, men who posed a risk to national security. But never Terzi himself.
Since he bought U.S. weapons and materiel, and the government wanted the business bad enough to overlook him, he’d been left alone. Even though he sold those same weapons to criminal groups and terrorist organizations in Syria because it fed his bank account, posing a direct risk to American interests and personnel there. Because money meant everything to those in power.
But the rules were about to change.
The Valkyrie Program had been scrapped, and the handler she’d kept infrequent contact with since had gone silent several weeks ago. Eden wasn’t sure if Chris was dead or not. Either way, she was on her own now. And that meant she no longer had to stay within the parameters imposed on her for so long. It was incredibly freeing to do things her way.
“Sonya, are you finished serving the prawns?” a woman asked in clipped Russian.
Staying in character, she turned to the head of the catering company hired for this event and put on a smile. “Yes, I was just headed back into the kitchen to get the next platter.”
The woman gave her a stern look and strode off to check on another server. Eden bustled back into the kitchen to get another silver tray of hour d’oeuvres. She’d set up a fake ID for this background weeks ago before applying to the catering company, because the host was every bit as cagey as Terzi, and had his security vet each catering employee’s credentials before granting them access to the estate. Luckily her credentials were impeccable, thanks to help from her former handler.
For all his brash arrogance and illusions of being untouchable, Terzi had proved frustratingly difficult to isolate. She’d been trying to get to him for almost three months now, and tonight was the best shot she was going to have.
Out in the dining room she circulated among the guests, keeping careful watch of who was here and where everyone was positioned. Her light-brown complexion and eyes made her stand out somewhat amongst the crowd, so she needed to otherwise make herself as unnoticeable as possible in her black uniform. Terzi was still at the table, now sipping on a flute of champagne, all smug and feeling invincible.
Eden would make sure he found out otherwise tonight.
His chief bodyguard was positioned in the far corner of the room, keeping watch. Two weapons were hidden in shoulder holsters beneath his custom-tailored suit jacket, and another in an ankle holster made visible by the slight bulge every time he took a step. The host’s security was more discreet, stationed throughout the house and dressed in formal wear. Eden had memorized their placements earlier, as well as their schedule during previous recon of the estate over the past two days.
She wasn’t worried about the tight security. She’d killed in front of an audience before and no one had ever been the wiser. All she had to do was deliver the fatal dose and disappear before they sealed off the mansion to question the staff. Once she did that her ID would be burned, but it didn’t matter.
She had several points going in her favor tonight. The number of guests and staff would make it easier for her to slip out unnoticed in the ensuing chaos. And Terzi had a fondness for marzipan she was about to exploit to the fullest.
She stayed as invisible as possible throughout the first three courses. After the main meal was served, while everyone relaxed around the table with another round of drinks, she got busy in the kitchen gathering the tools of her trade.
When she got the cue from the head of the catering company, she picked up the tray and followed another server bearing a tray of cocktails into the dining room. Several others were already there pouring tea and coffee for the guests, along with serving different kinds of dessert.
Eden kept her expression neutral as the server with the cocktails moved around the table and stopped at Terzi. He smiled up at her, taking the Amaretto Sour and saluting his host.
Eden waited until he’d taken a large sip before offering the guest beside him an exquisite, handmade marzipan fruit from the plate she carried. Terzi’s gaze cut to the pretty little morsels, a smile spreading across his face.
Certain of her mark, Eden lifted the tray to avoid another server passing by and quickly placed the laced marzipans in her clenched fist on the plate. Deftly turning it as she positioned herself beside Terzi again, satisfaction punched through her as he took four of them.
The dosage was tricky. He needed to eat at least two of them for it to be fatal, and she didn’t want to make it too obvious that it was poison. Better if it seemed like food poisoning at first, or a reaction to his blood pressure and heartburn meds. The cocktail would help. It was fortunate that Terzi had a weakness for almond-flavored things, disguising the scent of the cyanide.
Lifting the tray as she moved to the next guest, she “accidentally” knocked the final laced marzipan off the tray. As soon as it hit the floor another server swooped in to pluck it up and discard it, allowing Eden to move to the next guest without fear of poisoning them.
A few minutes later as she made her way to the other side of the table, she cast a surreptitious glance at Terzi out of the corner of her eye. He’d only eaten one marzipan and already looked ill.
He was sweating lightly, frowned as he put one hand on his protruding stomach. Dabbing at his face with his linen napkin, he reached for his Amaretto Sour and took another gulp. Then he picked up a second marzipan, paused to examine it, and popped it into his mouth.
Excellent.
She was headed through the kitchen doorway when she heard the first indication of alarm. At a sharp gasp and a cry, Eden ducked around the doorway into the kitchen.
Hidden from view, she glanced back in time to see Terzi lurch from his chair. He made it two steps befor
e doubling over and vomiting all over the priceless Persian rug beneath the dining table. People gasped and shoved from their seats as security moved in.
Time to go.
A thud sounded somewhere behind her as Terzi hit the floor in the other room. She pushed her way through the flurry of people moving around the busy kitchen. She didn’t have to see Terzi to know what was happening. He’d be convulsing now, helpless as his body struggled for oxygen it could no longer absorb, foaming at the mouth even.
Good. Bastard deserved to die in terror.
Three more servers were bringing fruit trays down the hallway when she got there. Security agents rushed past them, faces grim.
Eden gave them blank looks and moved out of their way, staying in the periphery. As soon as they were past her, she rushed down the hall, heading for the powder room she planned to escape from.
Ten feet from her goal a man stepped out of the doorway and stopped, blocking her way. Strong hands shot out to wrap around her upper arms.
She wrenched free and reached for the weapon at the back of her pants, then froze when she looked up into his face. Shock blasted through her as she stared up into a pair of stormy gray eyes she never thought she’d see again.
WHAT THE HELL?
For a moment Zack was too stunned to speak. He’d convinced himself it was his mind playing tricks on him again when he’d spotted her going into the kitchen earlier. Had convinced himself that it couldn’t be her. Because he’d been imagining seeing her everywhere for months and never found her—in hotels, train stations, airports…in his dreams.
Yet here she was. Nina. Standing right in front of him after all this time.
“What are you doing here?” he blurted, concerned and still struggling to process everything. Finding her here and now was way too damn suspicious under the circumstances.
Her expression closed up, and she looked at him like he was a stranger. “You need to get out of my way,” she said in a clipped voice, those unforgettable honey-brown eyes filled with resolve. That look said either he moved, or she’d make him.
Before he could respond, more shouts came from the dining room. Someone yelling for security to lock down the place. He had no doubt they wanted Nina. And that if they caught her, they would kill her.
He focused back on her, the hard set of her features, and made a snap decision. It meant breaking his cover, but he was willing to pay the consequence to get Nina out of here. “If you want to live, come with me now.” Grabbing her arm, he turned them and began leading her down the hall.
She was stiff at first, so stiff he tightened his grip, then she relented, jaw tense.
He dragged her through one of the side doorways just as more security agents rushed in through another. Zack glanced around the brick courtyard. They were already locking the estate down. His car was parked out on the road but they’d already closed the main gate.
He released her arm but snagged her hand to make it look like they were a couple, and held on tight in case she had other ideas. Once they were clear, he was going to get some answers. “We’re gonna have to scale the wall.”
She didn’t say a word, just hurried toward it with him. Twenty feet from the eight-foot-high structure, she broke free of his grip with a practiced move that took him off guard, and ran toward it. He watched, stunned, as she jumped up to catch the top, then nimbly swung over it and dropped down on the other side like a pro. Zack quickly followed suit, half-expecting to have to chase after her when he landed.
But she was standing there scanning the road instead. “We’re clear, but we need to hurry.”
The juxtaposition between this tough, capable woman and the one he’d thought he’d been falling in love with was jarring. Just who the hell was she, really? Not the flight attendant she’d pretended to be when they’d met in St. Petersburg ten months ago, that much was clear.
And he was really, really concerned that she might be a whole lot worse.
“This way.” He grabbed her arm again, his mind still reeling, and hurried them to his car. Cops had been stationed near the mansion for extra security. They were just coming down the road as he pulled away from the curb and got them away from the estate. But he wanted answers, and he couldn’t hold back for another second.
“Who are you?” he demanded, a sinking feeling taking hold in his gut.
The night they’d met in St. Petersburg he’d been posing as an American businessman trying to get in with an arms dealer. He’d seen her sitting at the hotel bar in that tight skirt suit uniform, and her welcoming smile had made his brain short-circuit. Her cover story had checked out, and he’d been so sure the attraction was mutual that he’d invited her to be his date to an event with the arms dealer the following night.
Throughout all their time together she’d never done or said anything to make him suspicious that she wasn’t who she claimed to be. Not once, for that entire three-day weekend they’d been glued to each other, and then every time they’d met afterward over the next seven weeks.
Until he’d woken alone in that Moscow hotel the last time and found the note she’d left, leaving him bewildered and crushed. Now it all made a horrible kind of sense, and he was a fucking idiot for ever falling for her ruse.
“My name’s Eden,” she said quietly.
He shot her a sideways glance as he sped down the darkened street. She looked the same as Nina had, but there was a hard edge to her now that hadn’t been there before. He had no idea if she was telling the truth or not, but he’d be a fucking idiot to trust one word that came out of her mouth. A mouth he’d known intimately not too long ago, and still dreamed about it moving over his skin.
“Did you kill Terzi?” He couldn’t believe he was asking that, but it was impossible to ignore the evidence before him. Because this was the second time the man he’d been trying to gain the trust of had died of probable poisoning while she was around.
She didn’t respond. And that was all the answer he needed.
Goddammit. He bit down hard to stifle the expletive that threatened to burst out of his mouth. She’d used him to get an intro to her previous target. Had made him think she felt something for him. But he’d been a means to an end, nothing more, and now she’d just fucked-up a five-month-long sting to nail Terzi and his inner circle.
But then why spend all that time with him after the job was done in St. Petersburg? Why pretend she’d felt something for him for so long? Unless she’d been hoping to kill someone else he was connected to, and when she decided he was no longer of use, she’d ghosted on him.
“Who are you, really?” he ground out, pissed off at himself as much as her.
Her gaze was fixed on the side mirror as he drove. “Just drop me off at the next street.”
“No way. I have to take you in.” His CIA contacts would want to question her—right after he did.
She snorted. “That’s not happening.”
Anger punched through him, surprising him with its force. “Oh, it’s happening.” He turned right at the next light and sped through the light traffic. He wanted to get her some place safe so they could talk in private, find out what the hell was going on and who she was working for. “In the meantime, you need to explain what—”
He broke off at the sound of the door opening, gaped in astonishment as Nina/Eden dove out onto the road and rolled away from the car.
“Jesus Christ!” He hammered the brake, wrenched his gaze up to the rearview mirror as “Eden” rolled to a stop on the pavement behind him, then popped up like a seasoned stuntwoman and darted for the sidewalk.
Struggling to recover from his shock, Zack threw the car into park and jumped out to chase her. He bounded over a hedge and tore after her, his shoes pounding against the pavement. Just as he rounded the corner he caught a flash of her as she veered from the sidewalk back toward the road, then lost sight of her in the traffic waiting at the light.
Cursing under his breath, he searched frantically left and right as traffic passed by
. Where the hell was she? She couldn’t have gone far.
He glanced back at his vehicle—
Just in time to see her hop into it and drive away.
Swearing, Zack whipped around and raced for the car, urgency screaming through him. He couldn’t lose her. Not after all this time, not after what she’d done. But his efforts were useless. Within seconds she’d blown past him and had vanished from sight.
“Gotta be shitting me,” he muttered, pulling out his cell phone to report it, even as he knew it was a waste of time. By the time anyone located his car, she would be long gone.
Who the hell was she? Who had sent her after Terzi tonight?
Whatever the answers, there would be hell to pay for what she’d done tonight. Zack had to find her and bring her in before she got herself killed.
*End Excerpt*
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
NY Times and USA Today Bestselling author Kaylea Cross writes edge-of-your-seat military romantic suspense. Her work has won many awards, including the Daphne du Maurier Award of Excellence, and has been nominated multiple times for the National Readers’ Choice Awards. A Registered Massage Therapist by trade, Kaylea is also an avid gardener, artist, Civil War buff, Special Ops aficionado, belly dance enthusiast and former nationally-carded softball pitcher. She lives in Vancouver, BC with her husband and family.
You can visit Kaylea at www.kayleacross.com. If you would like to be notified of future releases, please join her newsletter.
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COMPLETE BOOKLIST
ROMANTIC SUSPENSE