Show Of Force. Elle James

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СКАЧАТЬ a gala with the prime purpose of raising money for sick children.

      During the two hours Riley waited, she went through her proposed actions in her mind, the steps she would take and how she would maneuver her victim out of the ballroom and into one of the anterooms or the ladies’ restroom. Once there, Riley would aim her small handgun at the woman and force her to take a small pill. She slipped her hand into the voluminous purse and curled her fingers around the HK .40 caliber handgun that fit snugly in her grip. She knew how to fire it. Knew where to hit her target to ensure a quick and painless death. But she wouldn’t fire the handgun unless absolutely necessary. The poison would do the trick much more quietly. All she had to do was make her take it, and Toby would be set free.

      She couldn’t think about the woman she’d been sent to eliminate. Toby was only six years old. He deserved a chance to live. If it meant taking the life of an older woman who’d had her chance at living, so be it. Riley couldn’t let anything happen to her only living relative remaining on earth. As far as she knew, Toby didn’t know what her parents and she herself had been recruited to do.

      No one knew, except Riley and her handler. And Riley had no clue who her handler was. When her parents died, she’d taken on guardianship of her little brother. She should have known hiding him in the Virginia countryside with a paid nanny wouldn’t be enough to keep him safe. When her parents had passed away, she should have moved as far away from DC as she could get. At least then the Russians wouldn’t have been able to find Toby and use him as collateral to collect on their investment.

      As the time neared, her breathing became more erratic and her pulse raced. In less than an hour, she’d have to put her skills as an assassin to use on an innocent woman who had gone out of her way, spent her money and engaged her employees to help Riley. She’d betray the woman’s trust and the trust of her new assistant, Riley’s best friend and roommate, Grace Lawrence.

      Riley swallowed hard on the bile rising up her throat. She’d never asked for this assignment. She’d spent her life training with the misguided belief she’d never have to use that training. If asked to do something she didn’t like, she’d always imagined herself refusing.

      Until they’d kidnapped Toby. Toby was her Achilles’ heel. She’d do anything for her little brother.

       Even kill?

      The alarm on her watch vibrated, letting her know the time had come. She had to get ready and make an appearance at the gala. Her target would recognize her and welcome her with open arms. She might even wonder how Riley could have afforded the plate price to get in. Riley had a lame excuse to cover long enough to get her quarry alone. She’d take her someplace where she could be assured they wouldn’t be followed by the woman’s bodyguards. There, she would do what she’d come to do.

      Riley removed the blond wig, slipped the maid’s dress over her head, released the clasps on her bra and slid the straps down her arms. Naked but for a pair of silky black panties, she wrapped a small amount of C-4 explosive to her inner calf with an Ace bandage and tucked the detonator affixed to a hair clip into her long dark hair, pulling it back behind her right ear and letting the rest of her hair fall over her left shoulder. The C-4 and detonator were courtesy of her handler, from among the items she’d found in the locker he’d sent her to in the train station.

      Once she had her diversion devices secured, she dug a long black dress out of the bottom lining of her purse and shook out the wrinkles. She’d purchased the dress while shopping with her friend, intending to wear it to a less expensive charity event later that summer.

      She almost laughed at the thought. That was when she was still an innocent American female who had nothing more to worry about than riding the Metro to and from her work as an aerospace engineer. The irony of it all was that she’d been recruited by the FBI to help them capture someone stealing government secrets from the corporation where she worked.

      They’d come close but hadn’t nailed the bastard. What was so ironic was that thief might have been working for the Russians. Just like she was.

      She pulled the dress over her head, settling the halter strap around her neck and letting the silky gown slide down her torso and over her hips. Riley and her roommate had both loved the dress. Though it had been a little pricey for her budget, she’d purchased the garment, excited to wear it to a ritzy DC function.

      She no longer was the child easily molded and trained by her parents. That little girl had grown into a woman with a mind of her own. All the propaganda her parents had used to shape her beliefs had been replaced by the readings and research of an inquisitive mind. She had no desire to work as a spy or an assassin for a country for which she felt no affiliation. She was an American, despite her parents’ home of birth. She wanted the American dream, the American lifestyle, and the right to pursue happiness and love. And she’d hoped to accomplish some of that pursuit in the dress she’d purchased with her roommate.

      Riley tucked the murder weapon into the bra of her dress. A tiny plastic bag containing one small pill that only had to touch the victim’s tongue to do the job. The pill would dissolve before anyone could do anything to help her, and the damage would be done. She’d die within just two minutes, her body hemorrhaging internally.

      Pulling a small mirror from her purse, she examined her makeup and the dress in an entirely different light from that of the happy young professional engineer she’d been when she purchased the item. In that dress, her life would change forever.

      To Riley, the dress would always be what she’d worn when she committed murder.

      * * *

      “ARE WE HERE?” Charlotte Halverson asked as the limousine pulled up to the curb outside the Marriott Marquis hotel in downtown Washington, DC.

      Mack Balkman had the lead on the bodyguard detail for his new boss. “Yes, ma’am.”

      “And don’t call me ma’am,” the woman said. “It’s Charlie.”

      “Yes, ma’am—Charlie.” Mack choked on calling his new boss by her first name. His years on active duty made him want to address his boss with the utmost respect. And if that wasn’t bad enough, his parents had insisted he address women older than him by their surnames. Calling Mrs. Halverson by her first name didn’t sit right in his books. But she was the boss, and if she wanted him to call her Pookie while standing on his head, he’d do it. She’d given him a job when most others wouldn’t have given him the time of day.

      “Are my men in place?” Charlie asked.

      “They are. We’ve got you covered.” He touched his headset. “All clear?”

      Mustang, their point man who’d arrived on a motorcycle ahead of them, replied, “Ready as we can be. This place is crawling with people here to see the red-carpet show.”

      Augustus “Gus” Walsh climbed out of the passenger seat of the limousine and opened the back door.

      When Charlie started to slide across the seat, Mack touched her arm. “Normally, I’d say ladies first, but not tonight.”

      “Right.” Charlie settled back and waited for Mack to exit the vehicle.

      He stood, straightened the tuxedo she’d arranged for him to wear and patted the nine-millimeter SIG Sauer P226 tucked beneath his jacket. Under his white shirt and cummerbund, he wore a bulletproof vest. He’d already cleared his men through the service that had been hired to provide security for the annual gala. All they had to do was show their identification and they would СКАЧАТЬ