Read Online Hotter Than Wildfire by Lisa Marie Rice - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lisa Marie Rice
Tags: Fiction, General, Suspense, Erótica, Romance, Contemporary, Women Singers, Romantic Suspense Fiction, Abused Women, Retired military personnel, Security consultants
Ads: Link
Eve made Harry’s stomach roil. Montez was a scumbag who made money off the backs of U.S. soldiers. Bringing him down was going to be a pleasure. No way was Montez going to touch Eve, he’d make sure of it.
Speaking of which…
Oh, fuck.
“ Goddammit! ” Harry stood up so suddenly his chair thudded against the floor.
Sam’s red eyes turned his way. “What?”
“She’s gone. She ran.” It pulsed through Harry in one electric moment of understanding. Eve had run out. Something had spooked her—something they’d said, something they’d done—and she’d run. Eve was now in the wind, with Gerald fucking Montez after her.
Every hair on Harry’s body stood up. He could feel the hairs on his forearms scraping against the stiff cotton of his dress shirt. Fear pinged in every cell of his body.
Harry wasn’t used to fear. Anger and outrage, yeah, sure. But fear? He hadn’t been afraid of anything since Methhead Rod had killed Crissy. The worst thing that could ever happen to him already had. His own death was nothing in comparison to seeing Rod slam his little sister’s body against the wall and watching her crumple to the floor in a pool of blood.
Well…right now was close. Eve was a woman of rare, almost mystical talent, a vulnerable, haunting beauty.
Eve knew something that could hurt Gerald Montez, who was utterly merciless. Montez wouldn’t think twice about wiping her off the face of the earth, but not before skinning her alive first, to find out what was in that beautiful head that could hurt him.
He’d already ruined her life. He’d planted evidence of her embezzlement and the murder of the man who’d ratted on him. With local law enforcement in his pocket, she didn’t dare ever show her face.
Harry didn’t even want to think about what Gerald could—and would—do to Eve if he caught her. Which he would. He’d tracked her to Seattle, and Montez was no dummy. She was probably running straight into a trap, right…fucking… now .
Sam’s eyes widened as Harry turned to one of the three top-of-the-line computers on his desk. He punched two keys and a clear image of the street outside their building appeared, crisp and clean.
“Fuck,” he breathed. “There she is.”
The monitor showed Eve running toward a taxi that had stopped to let a passenger out in front of the entrance. A second later the taxi pulled away, tires squealing.
Harry punched a key and the frame froze. He zoomed in on the license plate, highlighted the frame, copied it and entered it directly into a database he kept current for just such an occasion as this, in which speed was vital.
The database was a roster of TPMS IDs. The Tire Pressure Monitoring System probably was helpful for car safety, but it was fabulous for tracking down vehicles. Tire pressure measurement devices transmitted pressure data constantly to the onboard computer, each car with its separate ID—a safety measure that as a by-product was a quick way to track any vehicle manufactured since 2007.
The cab was a 2008 model Prius.
A soft ping and the ID was on his second monitor, superimposed on a map of San Diego.
“Sam!” Harry ran to the weapons locker, fitting himself with a light Kevlar vest, a shoulder holster with a Kimber 1911 and three magazines hanging from his belt. Comms system in ear.
He took the gun from the right-hand side of the locker. All the guns there were cold. Unregistered, untraceable. If Montez’s men were around, this was going to be a kill.
He slung a jacket on to cover the whole thing and raced to the door. “Have Henry bring my SUV up from the garage. I’ll call you from the vehicle. Keep following that cab and patch it through to my SUV’s GPS. And kill the security cameras where the cab stops.”
It was Harry who should have been at the computer. He was better at it than Sam. Sam was good at strategy; Harry was good with computers. But he’d have to leave Sam to take care of the monitors, because no way was
Speaking of which…
Oh, fuck.
“ Goddammit! ” Harry stood up so suddenly his chair thudded against the floor.
Sam’s red eyes turned his way. “What?”
“She’s gone. She ran.” It pulsed through Harry in one electric moment of understanding. Eve had run out. Something had spooked her—something they’d said, something they’d done—and she’d run. Eve was now in the wind, with Gerald fucking Montez after her.
Every hair on Harry’s body stood up. He could feel the hairs on his forearms scraping against the stiff cotton of his dress shirt. Fear pinged in every cell of his body.
Harry wasn’t used to fear. Anger and outrage, yeah, sure. But fear? He hadn’t been afraid of anything since Methhead Rod had killed Crissy. The worst thing that could ever happen to him already had. His own death was nothing in comparison to seeing Rod slam his little sister’s body against the wall and watching her crumple to the floor in a pool of blood.
Well…right now was close. Eve was a woman of rare, almost mystical talent, a vulnerable, haunting beauty.
Eve knew something that could hurt Gerald Montez, who was utterly merciless. Montez wouldn’t think twice about wiping her off the face of the earth, but not before skinning her alive first, to find out what was in that beautiful head that could hurt him.
He’d already ruined her life. He’d planted evidence of her embezzlement and the murder of the man who’d ratted on him. With local law enforcement in his pocket, she didn’t dare ever show her face.
Harry didn’t even want to think about what Gerald could—and would—do to Eve if he caught her. Which he would. He’d tracked her to Seattle, and Montez was no dummy. She was probably running straight into a trap, right…fucking… now .
Sam’s eyes widened as Harry turned to one of the three top-of-the-line computers on his desk. He punched two keys and a clear image of the street outside their building appeared, crisp and clean.
“Fuck,” he breathed. “There she is.”
The monitor showed Eve running toward a taxi that had stopped to let a passenger out in front of the entrance. A second later the taxi pulled away, tires squealing.
Harry punched a key and the frame froze. He zoomed in on the license plate, highlighted the frame, copied it and entered it directly into a database he kept current for just such an occasion as this, in which speed was vital.
The database was a roster of TPMS IDs. The Tire Pressure Monitoring System probably was helpful for car safety, but it was fabulous for tracking down vehicles. Tire pressure measurement devices transmitted pressure data constantly to the onboard computer, each car with its separate ID—a safety measure that as a by-product was a quick way to track any vehicle manufactured since 2007.
The cab was a 2008 model Prius.
A soft ping and the ID was on his second monitor, superimposed on a map of San Diego.
“Sam!” Harry ran to the weapons locker, fitting himself with a light Kevlar vest, a shoulder holster with a Kimber 1911 and three magazines hanging from his belt. Comms system in ear.
He took the gun from the right-hand side of the locker. All the guns there were cold. Unregistered, untraceable. If Montez’s men were around, this was going to be a kill.
He slung a jacket on to cover the whole thing and raced to the door. “Have Henry bring my SUV up from the garage. I’ll call you from the vehicle. Keep following that cab and patch it through to my SUV’s GPS. And kill the security cameras where the cab stops.”
It was Harry who should have been at the computer. He was better at it than Sam. Sam was good at strategy; Harry was good with computers. But he’d have to leave Sam to take care of the monitors, because no way was
Similar Books
