Nowhere Safe

CHAPTER 55



Trish smiled at her brother who sat beside Angel’s hospital bed, staring at his wife and daughter with such a look of raw love she wanted to cry. But a happy cry. “Aren’t they beautiful, Zane?”

He raised the happiest proud papa face to her that Trish had ever seen.

Her sister-in-law gave a little headshake. “Jacey is beautiful, but I’ve spent twelve hours in labor. I haven’t brushed my hair or my teeth and I still have a baby belly.”

“Let me tell you what I see,” Trish said. “You have that new mother glow. Zane has always loved your hair, because he’s constantly touching it like he is right now.”

Zane laughed sheepishly. “She’s right.”

“And as for a little pooch at your middle,” Trish continued. “You’ll be out running that off before you know it.”

Angel heaved a relaxed sigh. “True. I can’t wait to get back in shape.”

“Which is why my baby gift to you is one of those cool three-wheel jogging strollers.”

Angel’s eyes lit up. “Really? I was thinking about one.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Trish nodded, happy to see that she’d chosen well. “But when you need to go on those really long runs, Heidi and I will have an auntie day.”

“You’re going to be the best aunt, but a very busy one.” Angel grinned. “Hey, what happened with the filming?”

“Senator Dixon is rescheduling.”

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry.” Angel looked heartbroken. “Did you lose the competition?”

Trish’s smile came from deep inside her soul. “Xavier had a much sexier Hollywood celebrity, but he embarrassed her by not really being an expert.”

“Who?” Angel’s eyes lit up at the possible gossip.

“The producers aren’t revealing the name. I just heard that around the studio.”

“You’ve been back?”

“Yes. I am one of the two new consultants.”

Zane grinned. “Way to go, honey. I never doubted you.”

Angel rolled her eyes at her husband and winked at Trish who’d already forgiven her brother for worrying himself into a frenzy over her.

Trish checked her watch, but only for show. She had nothing to do for three days. Heidi had run her off from ReSolution, claiming Heidi and Bunko had everything under control. Trish was warned to not return without a tan. “I need to get moving.”

“Wait,” Angel said, shifting the baby in her arms. “What about Josh?”

Trish shrugged. She didn’t think she could say he was supposed to leave today and she never expected to see him again. Not without crying, anyway, so she kept her lips pressed into a campaign-worthy smile.

If Josh’s decision was to walk away, then so be it.

She’d made a deal with herself that she could love him enough to let him go. He held a part of her she’d never be able to share with another man, but she was not the woman she’d been before meeting Josh. She’d survived murders, assaults and lunatics. All without taking a sip of alcohol.

To still be sober after all that gave her the confidence she’d been only pretending to have until now.

Zane got that dark I-hate-any-men-around-my-baby-sister look. “Josh is gone, right?”

Angel gave him an elbow.

Zane oomphed. “Hey. Just watching out for my kid sister.”

“What makes you think Trish needs it or that Josh can’t take care of her?” Angel countered.

Trish was lucky to have Angel. She’d become Josh’s biggest fan a few hours ago when Trish had shared what had really happened in Alligator Alley. She had not told Zane the whole story. He’d find out soon enough. Hopefully when she wasn’t around.

Zane had been out getting coffee and making Angel’s snack run, so the two women had been able to talk freely. But Trish had also told Angel that Josh was protecting someone, and until he could share that world with Trish, she couldn’t live in the shadows of his.

Neither would she live in any other shadow, even if it was the shadow of her own brother’s fear. She was done with that.

When Zane came back into the room, carrying a sack of contraband goodies that smelled suspiciously like pizza, Angel’s personal poison, Trish bided her time.

“I just heard back from my buddy Randall,” he said as he started unpacking the sack. “He said he’ll be at your house at seven tomorrow evening.” He set down a Styrofoam cup of coffee and looked at Trish. “He’ll meet with you to get your regular itinerary, then check out your house and let me know what kind of security system you need. Plus he’s just hired a new team out of Tennessee. They’re former Army Special Ops, which is perfect. He says they can follow you from home to work in the mornings, then back in the evenings, and they’ll set up a system in ReSolution and one at your house.

He kept talking as he pulled out a pizza slice-shaped box from a local mini-mart chain. Trish walked over to Zane and put her hand on his chest. She heard Angel snicker behind a bite of pizza. Zane stopped talking and both eyebrows shot up. “Problem?”

“Not as long as you pay attention to what I have to say.” She really loved this big idiot. “This is the last time we’re having this conversation, because I’m done with being coddled and smothered. Why do you think I train so hard with Arnie? I can take care of myself. I need your love, not your protection. Got it?”

“Trish–”

“Stop right there. Do you really want me to move across the country, far away from you, to prove I can stand on my own two feet, without you—or any security you hire—standing guard over me?”

Zane started making a growling sound, then tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling for a minute. Probably praying for the patience to deal with the women in his life. Trish reasoned that it was good for his character.

Without warning, he grabbed her into one of his bear hugs. “You’re right and I hear you. I love you, sis. I just don’t want you hurt.”

Too late. Mainlining Percocet wouldn’t help the pain cutting her up inside. She hugged Zane back. “I love you, too, crazy man. I’m leaving now and I don’t want you calling or coming by. I’m fine and you have your hands full watching out for your girls.”

She kissed his cheek, stepped over and hugged Angel and kissed her niece on the head. If only someone could bottle that new-baby smell.

Outside the hospital, Trish walked to the end of the sidewalk.

A silver Porsche was parked off to the side.

Josh climbed out.

She marveled at what a chameleon he was from techno computer guy to chic designer male to warrior toting a gun.

He walked over to her. “Hi.”

“Hi. Thought you were gone.”

“I couldn’t leave yet.”

Josh wanted to kiss her goodbye. That was all.

She shouldn’t kiss him again. It would be just one more painful memory she’d miss for the rest of her life. But was that going to stop her? She put her hands on his shoulders and lifted up to kiss him. He met her halfway, kissing her with a tenderness that threatened to buckle her knees.

A couple walked by, talking about prescriptions.

Trish broke the kiss. She couldn’t stand here forever. This was a hospital. “Why are you here?”

His eyes were softer than she’d ever seen them. “I have something to tell you and we don’t have much time.”

Then just say it fast. So she could leave while she could still keep it together. She put on her best face of understanding, ready for his goodbye. “I’m all ears.”

“No, you’re all heart and sweetness.”

Her heartbeat stuttered, but she held silent so he could talk.

“You asked me about my family and I only told you pieces. I did run the streets as a kid with two other friends. I work with them now.” He went on to explain how a CIA field operative had watched Josh and his band of thieves surviving on the street. Josh looked like the man’s nephew, who’d been kidnapped and killed, so he convinced his grieving brother and sister-in-law to take Josh in as a foster child.

That led to his adoption, and to his uncle training him in intelligence work. Josh looked past her. “I was not an easy child. I wanted to be back with my friends Sabrina and Dingo, but my adoptive parents loved me enough to be patient until I realized what a gift I’d been given. Not being adopted, but being loved.”

Trish brushed a lock of hair off his forehead. “I’m thankful your parents and uncle protected you so well and that your uncle gave you elite training. But I see now why you believe you can never have someone in your life, someone who loves you, and that makes me sad.”

She understood that Josh would protect what was his and not want to put a woman at risk from his world. And she wouldn’t want him to give up what he did. But living every day had all kinds of risks. She’d been in just as much danger with a man in a hotel room years ago. She’d been in just as much danger over the past few weeks from people she’d thought were her friends. If Josh would only realize that she could take care of herself.

But she would not make this any harder on either one of them.

She lowered her hand to touch his cheek. “Thank you for telling me that. I can accept what you’re saying. I hope you’ll always be safe.”

“Is that all you have to say to me?”

“What else is there to say?” God, this hurt too much. “Goodbye?”

He leaned close so that only she could hear him. “I want to hear the words you said to me in Atlanta.”

Did he mean...

“Three words, Trish. They’re mine. I want them.”

A tear trickled down her face. “I can’t do this. I understand that you live in a world of mystery and secrets for your job, but I can’t–” She stuck on the word “love” and changed it to, “–care about someone I’ll never really know.”

“Say it, Trish.”

Another tear joined the first one. What the hell? It was all she could think about day and night. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Don’t do this to me, Josh. I don’t think I’ll ever get over you.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“That’s just wrong.” She swiped at her cheeks.

He wiped her tears with his fingers. “I love you, sweetheart. Get used to hearing it.”

“When? When will I hear it?” She held up her hand and retreated a step from him. “Once a year when you surface out of the blue?”

“What if I told you I would give up what I do?”

Trish shook her head. “I thought I couldn’t be with someone who kept secrets from me, but I’ve realized that’s not the problem. I’d never ask you to give up your work. It’s all you’ve ever wanted. It’s who you are, Josh. I’m not afraid of what you do and I don’t need to know the details of your work, but I am afraid of loving someone who doesn’t trust me with the rest of his world. And you’re afraid to have a real relationship because of your work.”

He stalked her, refusing to let her escape. “You may not want to ask me to change what I do, but I’m going to make changes, starting with shifting my work from the field to intel, which means I’ll be able to tell you how much I love you pretty damned often. Like daily.”

Could she believe his words? Did he believe his words? “Why would you change your life that much now?”

He touched her hair, twirling a curl around his finger. “I loved being an operative at one time. I thought I still wanted to do this, but my heart hasn’t been in fieldwork for a while. It took meeting you to realize I don’t have the passion for living this life any more–or for some of my assignments.”

He dropped his head and inhaled near the bit of her hair he was fondling. Drew in a deep breath, almost like he was breathing her in, and let out an even deeper, contented sigh. Little quivers started in her belly as he went on. “I work with a private security team. They deserve my best and I’ll always give that to them, but in a new capacity that will allow me to work down here. I told them this morning and they’re good with it, relieved if you want to know the truth. I may be gone a couple of days a week, sometimes, but I’ll be down here with you every other minute of my life.”

She had to look shell-shocked, because she was. “You’re serious.” She stomped on the belly quivers. This had to stop.

He took her hand in his. “I’ve never been more serious in my life.”

She started shaking her head. “I still don’t know who you are.”

“That’s why I want you to go to dinner with me.”

He was insane. She loved an insane man who wanted to give up his world of cloak and dagger. “It’s only ten in the morning, too early for dinner, and I have things to do.”

“Liar. Heidi said you’re free for three days.”

So now he expected her to just vacation with him for three days and then what? The fact that she was considering it said she might be just as far off her rocker as he was. She shook her head again. “I thought I could be with you then give you up, but I can’t. It will be even harder to do this in three days. Just go now.”

He put his finger on her lips. “If you have dinner with me, it will change everything.”

“Why?” she said around his finger as it traced her lips.

His eyes turned dark blue and he muttered, “I’m going to get this done then I’m going to get us both naked.”

“Get what done?”

“Take you to dinner. In Seattle.”

“Why? What’s there?”

“My parents. I want them to meet their future daughter-in-law.” Josh wrapped his arms around her. “That is, if you’ll have me. Will you marry me? I should probably warn you if I don’t hear yes I’m going to push for the answer I want, even though you hate being pushed. You’re mine and I’m not giving you up. Ever.”

“You want me to meet your parents. Real parents? I thought you couldn’t share their identity.”

“I made a vow to my uncle to protect them and protect myself back when I thought I could live without love in my life. But I can’t. I called my parents and told them about you. They trust my judgment and I trust you.”

She caught her breath at that. “Just who are you, Josh?”

“Joshua Ike Carron, the reigning heir of Carron Technology.”

“They’re...you’re...”

“Obscenely wealthy, which is why we can go straight to the airport. I’ll buy you whatever you need, but first I need your answer.” He took a breath and his eyes held something Trish had never seen before. Vulnerability.

He’d kept his family shielded from everyone, and now he was sharing them with her. Here was the trust she’d been looking for.

And here stood the man she wanted in her life.

She snuggled up to him. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

“And you love me.” He dropped his forehead to hers.

“And I love you.”





The next Slye Temp romantic adventure

Honeymoon To Die For



She‘s convinced he’s guilty. He knows he’s not.

Can they survive long enough to prove who’s right?



Former Slye Temp agent Ryder Van Dyke faces the death penalty if he can’t find the person who framed him for murder. After six months of hell in an Atlanta penitentiary, his last hope for freedom disintegrates, and Ryder gets one shot at a commuted sentence—if he helps the FBI nail a deadly criminal - his father. But Ryder has his own agenda. Using his Special Forces skills, he’ll either prove his innocence or disappear if he can’t, because he is not going back in that cage.



FBI analyst Bianca Brady spent two long years substantiating that the head of Van Dyke Industries is guilty of funneling weapons to terrorists. Now all she needs is the evidence. When her research leads to a murder conviction for Ryder Van Dyke, Bianca sees a clear path to take down his father and quiet the voice of her best friend who died at the hands of a terrorist. She convinces the FBI to offer Ryder a deal.



Bianca’s the last person Ryder will trust after she helped convict him, but there’s only one way to get an agent inside his father’s high-security family compound – as Ryder’s legal wife. Navigating a minefield of deadly secrets, threats to national security, and a killer with a vendetta, the unlikely pair must convince onlookers that their wedding vows are real and stay alive until they uncover the truth. But when Ryder realizes Bianca is the killer’s next target, he’s forced to make a choice he never expected…give up his freedom to save the woman who’s stolen 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.

And the smell. Who could forget the god-awful coppery stench of fresh blood? Her stomach roiled again.

Hard to believe a week had passed. Seemed like just minutes ago. She squeezed her eyes shut and saw it all again. The hole in Jeff’s forehead. His eyes locked open in horror. The back of his head ... she swallowed and took a breath. She’d carry that brutal image for as long as she lived.

Along with the responsibility for his death.

And all because of a job she’d thought was a godsend. What had she done so wrong in her life to have ended up involved with a criminal again?

The first time, she’d been eighteen. And naïve to the point of being clueless about drugs. That had cost her.

She’d had no reason to think her own father would take advantage of her job as a city courier and use her to mule drugs without her knowledge.

Then throw her under the judge’s gavel to save his own hide.

This time, she was not going down without a fight.

If she got out of here tonight, she had the hammer that would bring down Mason. And prove her own innocence. She patted the heavy band wrapped around her waist like a money belt. The strip of plastic held a fortune in gold coins that would bring her salvation.

Or the end of her life.

Twelve minutes, forty-two seconds until room check.

Jagged sparks flashed across the eerie sky, nearer, but still too far away. Her heart pounded against her breastbone.

Come on, God. Don’t I deserve one break?

Thunder rumbled through the black heavens, longer than it had during the two power outages earlier in the week. They were common occurrences at the estate, cured each time temporarily by generators. She’d timed the last two blackouts. Should the Almighty-in-charge-of-weather deign to knock out the main electrical feed once more, she’d have nine minutes until three thousand volts surged through the chain link fence again.

Three thousand volts or face Mason when he returned tomorrow morning – not much of a choice.

The goal was simple. Escape or die trying.

She still nursed wounds from her penance for that first attempt. Her hand unconsciously went to her sore ribs and she licked her cut lip. The guards hadn’t harmed her beyond bruising, but Mason enjoyed doling out his personal brand of punishment.

The psycho had actually gotten aroused as he’d beaten her.

In the dignified tone of a pompous professor, Mason had explained his actions. “Consider this step one in teaching you compliance and submission, Angelina.”

He’d wasted his time.

There would be no step two.

Thunder barreled across the sky, directly overhead this time, rattling the delicate glass panels between her and the storm.

Ten minutes, eighteen seconds left.

Her restless fingers worried the cold silver band Mason had locked on her wrist. He’d smiled when he assured her the tracking device was for her own protection. That had been right before he promised to return by the time she’d healed.

Cracked bones and bruises weren’t major concerns, but living to see her twenty-sixth birthday had become questionable.

The guards had breathed a collective sigh of relief after her beating, sure that she would stay put.

Only a crazy person would try to escape again.

“We’ll see who’s crazy,” she whispered. “You

son-of-a – ”

Lightning exploded in a clap of thunder, so close her arm hairs stood on end.

The entire compound fell dark.

Angel hit the self-timer on her watch and dropped the compass down the front of her Lycra running top beneath a butter-yellow T-shirt. Mason’s choice of color. Not hers. Combined with matching shorts, she’d stand out like a beacon when the first lights popped back on.

She pushed the French doors open and rushed into a cool rain that battered the second floor private balcony. She nudged the doors shut behind her. A worn navy blue ball cap shielded her eyes from the downpour and hid shoulder-length auburn hair she’d fastened into a ponytail.

No going back now. Guards would enter the empty bedroom by the time lights flicked on.

Feeling blindly in the dark for the rail that enclosed the balcony, she gripped the ledge, climbed over then locked her legs around the ten-inch thick center column. Her arms strained to hold her body’s dead weight. Tremors shook her at the fear of falling twenty feet. Wet polished marble offered no traction to slow her descent.

She slid down the soaked surface. Friction burned both her hands and exposed legs in seconds. Tears, mixed with rain, poured down her face from the searing pain.

She lost her grip ... and clenched her muscles, waiting for the impact. She plummeted through a black vortex. Sharp points stabbed into her shoulders and hips when she landed, but no excruciating pain from a broken bone.

She’d been spared by a boxwood hedge.

Like a turtle on its back in a bed of nails, she lay still, panting hard against the pain in her ribs. The insides of her legs throbbed and wet bullets of rain pelted her face. Drawing a deep breath, she kicked both feet and rolled to her side, dropping into a crouch to listen.

No thud of heavy footsteps – yet.

Time to get moving. Through the darkness, she counted memorized steps across the lawn. Lightning crackled and fingered through the dark sky. When grass changed to concrete, she sidestepped around the Olympic-size pool. Raindrops slapped the chlorinated water.

Her feet met grass again exactly on count. She picked up the pace. Her shoulder bumped against a stone arbor strangled by jasmine vines. She tripped on a thick stem and went down hard, scraping her palms.

She gulped a deep breath. Listened for shouts, boots splashing across wet ground, any sound of being hunted.

Still clear.

Jumping up, she lunged into the blackness, running hard, fighting the panic exploding in her chest.

Heel to toe, heel to toe. Don’t smack the ground.

Finally, the big elm came into view during a quick flash of lightning. She stepped around the tree, sucking in short gasps of air. Running a marathon was easier than racing a hundred feet through the dark, expecting to get shot. Her heart hammered with terrified beats. She had to calm down and stick to her plan. Her hand shook violently as she made two stabs to press the button that illuminated her watch face.

Four minutes and twelve seconds.

Plenty of time if everything stayed status quo.

For the past ten days she’d pretended to be afraid of her shadow. Maybe the ruse had paid off. As long as no one rushed to be Mr. Efficient and cranked the generators ahead of schedule.

She sprinted eight big steps forward and stopped. Drenched to the bone, trembling from fear, she reached out in the darkness to grasp the ten-foot-tall security fence. Survival instincts stayed her hand at the last second, but there was only one way to know if the electricity was activated.

She stuck a finger on it.

No tingle.

She glanced up at the angry heavens. Thank you.

The current normally surging through the steel mesh could toss a grown man like a discarded rag doll. She grabbed a handhold on the fence.

Kenner’s roar of anger from the balcony reached her.

He’d found her empty bed.

Clenching one handhold then another as fast as she could, she struggled up the fence.

Freedom was only a foot away. She hauled herself over the top. Her hand slipped. Soft flesh tore on the twisted ends of the chain link. She bit down hard to swallow a cry of pain. No sense giving Kenner a tip on which direction she’d run. He’d find out soon enough anyway. She slipped, kicking frantically for any foothold. Falling from this height could mean a snapped ankle, and speed was her best weapon right now. She caught a toehold, scrambled down the other side, and leaped away from the fence.

Lights blazed on across the compound. Two minutes early.

She froze. Wet chain link sizzled with renewed power.

Every survival instinct she had screamed at her to tear through the woods like a madwoman. But hitting a tree might knock her out or daze her. Instant capture. Instead, she backed away from the fence, her feet on autopilot when she turned and plowed forward. Every time lightning streaked across the sky and lit up the woods, she raced ahead, dodging trees. Thick underbrush clawed at her arms. Pain from the cuts burning her skin demanded attention.

She pushed harder.

Sheets of rain blasted through breaks in the trees. Thunder boomed overhead.

How far could Mason’s men track her?

Would the storm interfere with the bracelet’s signal? She hoped for that miracle since God had been accommodating so far.

A jagged branch snagged the edge of her thin shorts and ripped a searing gash across her thigh. An adrenaline spike masked the pain, but her lungs begged for oxygen.

She was an endurance runner, not a sprinter.

At an unexpected opening in the brush, she stumbled to a stop, sucking air. Snatching the gold paperweight from between her breasts, she flipped it to the compass embedded in the top. She got her bearings during the next brilliant lightning display.

The small airfield she’d seen on a map in Mason’s office should be dead ahead.

Tucking away the compass, she started to move then jerked around at a noise.

Distant barking and howls broke through the deluge. Mason’s dogs trained by expert trackers. Between the animals and the stupid bracelet, they were on her trail. She pushed on with one thought – surely someone at the airfield would help her.

What if they knew Mason? What if someone at the airport worked for Mason? At the very least, he flew in there and might be a client who paid for hangar space.

“What ifs” would get her killed if she slowed down.

She ran her fingers compulsively over the band of coins strapped around her waist. Those eight rare coins were as important as her next breath.

She’d sworn once that she would never go to jail again. Her one and only conviction had not been her fault. The police hadn’t believed her story then.

They’d laugh in her face this time – right before they handcuffed her.

Taking Mason’s Saint-Gauden’s Double Eagle coins had stamped her death warrant. But they didn’t belong to Mason either. He’d stolen the rare pieces from a museum to trade for what he called a once-in-a-lifetime find. Some panel made out of amber from back in the fifteenth century.

She smiled in spite of her pain.

Mason would be empty handed when it came time to deliver the coins on Sunday.

One more way to pay that bastard back. If she didn’t get caught by Mason or the FBI first.

The FBI should be thrilled to have the stolen coins returned, and her testimony on Mason’s international crime ring. But no one would listen to her until she could prove she had no part in the original theft.

Mason claimed he had evidence that would implicate her in the theft. And who would the authorities believe? A local dignitary or a nobody ex-con?

As if someone had thrown a switch, the downpour fizzled into a steady shower. She burst through a break in the trees and slowed while her eyes adjusted, but moved forward steadily.

The ground fell away. She stumbled down a short drop into a ditch, landing on her knees. No pain because adrenaline still rushed through her, but she’d have bruises on bruises after this. She climbed up and touched pavement.

The runway.

The good news? No fence around this airport. She scrambled to stand and drew a quaking breath. Freedom got closer by the minute.

The bays of pursuit dogs pierced the night. They were closing in.

A fence at this point might’ve had merits.

Searching past the runway, she spotted the bright glow of an open hangar a quarter of a mile away. With no time to waste, she sprinted toward the illuminated area.

Running felt good in spite of how her thigh throbbed. Blood trickled from the deep gash. Forcing her heart to pump harder only made her bleed more, but she’d survived worse.

She softened her steps as she neared the hangar then crept to the edge of the building. A tall, lanky man in mechanic’s coveralls loaded boxes into a sleek twin-prop cargo plane.

When the worker finished, he walked across the spotless floor toward a brightly lit office.

She could just make out two men on the other side of a glass door. The mechanic pushed the door open and announced the airplane was ready to go.

Angel hesitated. She’d always obeyed the law before. Now, the “slightly illegal things” she never would have done in the past just kept stacking up. Clenching her jaw against the unavoidable twinge of guilt, she made her decision.

That was the old Angel.

The new one wanted to survive and accepted that she’d never outrun those dogs on the ground.

One way or another, she was leaving on that plane.





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 three novels in the Slye Temp series during 2013. Dianna also co-authors the bestselling Belador urban fantasy with #1 NYT bestseller Sherrilyn Kenyon.



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). To read an excerpt, go to http://www.MicahCaida.com