by Kaylea Cross
STEALING
VENGEANCE
Vengeance Series
Kaylea Cross
STEALING VENGEANCE
Copyright © 2019 Kaylea Cross
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Cover Art: Sweet ‘N Spicy Designs
Developmental edits: Deborah Nemeth
Line Edits: Joan Nichols
Digital Formatting: LK Campbell
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the author.
ISBN: 978-1-928044-33-8
Table of Contents
ABOUT THE BOOK
DEDICATION
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Dear reader
Excerpt: Covert Vengeance
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
COMPLETE BOOKLIST
ABOUT THE BOOK
She’s an expert at getting into places she doesn’t belong.
The government created Megan, transforming her into a Valkyrie—a deadly operative only whispered about in certain circles. They took everything from her and made her into a weapon. Now someone is leaking secret information about her sisters-in-arms, betraying them for money. Loyal Unto Death is the Valkyrie motto. So when Megan is recruited to find who leaked the files, she takes the high-risk assignment. Even if it means working with the man who betrayed her trust long ago. Even if it means giving her life. Because she’ll do whatever it takes to find justice.
But this is one situation she can’t escape from on her own.
Tyler Bergstrom never forgot the resourceful woman who escaped during the toughest phase of SERE school. So when he learns the stunning truth about her and his unwitting part in her past, he volunteers to work alongside Megan for a chance at redemption. Except she doesn’t want a partner. Doesn’t want to let anyone into her life, including him—hell, especially him. Yet whether she likes it or not, for this mission they’re partners. Now it’s a race against the clock to bring down the shadowy figure targeting Valkyries. But the threat goes deeper than they ever imagined. No one is safe. And if they can’t overcome the past and learn to trust each other, they’re both dead.
DEDICATION
For Big Weasel. Love you to infinity. Thanks for the plot bunny on this one.
Mom xo
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Welcome to the start of my series about my favorite female assassins—the Valkyries! I’ve been pondering a series for these badass ladies for several years now. Given the state of things today, I felt the need to unleash these strong, talented women on the world. I hope you enjoy the ride.
Happy reading,
Kaylea
Prologue
Trinity Durant tucked the package safely into the bodice of her cocktail dress and walked out of the guest suite into the top floor hallway of the posh hotel like she owned the place. Black and simple, the dress was sexy and short enough in front to allow her full range of motion of her legs should a quick getaway become necessary.
Not that she anticipated having to make a run for it tonight. But she was always prepared for the unexpected.
She smiled at a couple she passed and headed for the stairs. Her target—a man with important CIA contacts and a past to hide—was currently down the hall screwing his mistress in another suite, allowing Trinity plenty of time to slip in and retrieve what she’d needed from the safe in the closet. As an added bonus, it would also allow her team to send an explicit video link of the couple to his new, young socialite wife later on.
Sometimes blackmail was the best currency to get what you needed.
Trinity hoped the footage got splashed all over every social media outlet out there. The slimy bastard and all his corrupt government buddies deserved public ridicule and humiliation once their dirty deeds were exposed.
Down on the second floor in the large, adjoining ballrooms, the party was in full swing. A ritzy gala supporting a children’s charity, featuring a guest list made up of celebrities, politicians and government officials. Anyone and everyone who had power and money in Washington. By morning the package tucked into her bodice would have several of them panicking—especially the man upstairs.
She bypassed the party and headed for the main entrance, struck by how easy this was compared to the jobs she used to take on. So many times she had been forced to take the place of the mistress in the upstairs suite right now, using the powers of seduction she’d been trained with to get what she needed. And sometimes, the job ended only when she’d added another kill to her body count.
That was then. Now she had a new life. One where she called the shots, and only took on assignments she was comfortable with. Best of all, she had a wonderful man to share that new life with.
Her left thumb went unerringly to her bare third finger, startlingly naked without the weight of her diamond engagement ring. Pushing the nagging worry about it from her mind, she stepped outside.
Warm night air surrounded her as she exited the air-conditioned building. A few steps from the curb, the burner phone in her evening bag rang. She pulled it out and answered without looking at the display. Only one person had the number.
“Did you get it?” the familiar male voice asked.
“Of course I got it,” she said, feigning insult. On a difficulty and risk scale of one-to-ten, tonight’s op had been a zero-point-five on both counts. And yet it had hopefully been one of the most important of her career.
“Good. I’ll pick you up at the rendezvous point.”
Which they should have set up a few blocks closer, she decided as she tucked the phone away. Easy for him to set the RV point earlier—he wasn’t the one walking three blocks in freaking four-inch heels. Heels that concealed stiletto blades in them. Because a girl could never have too many weapons on her.
By the time she reached the appointed intersection her feet were killing her, but her steps never faltered and her gait didn’t change. A Valkyrie never showed pain or weakness on a job—not even a former one.
She folded her arms and shot a mock glare through the BMW’s tinted windows as it pulled to the curb in front of her. The lock popped up and the passenger door swung open.
Her boss, Alex Rycroft, leaned across the front seat, silver eyes gleaming as he grinned at her. He was “retired” and happily married with a toddler at home, but took on certain things as a consultant from time to time. “You look gorgeous.”
“Flatterer,” she muttered, fighting a smile as she slid into the passenger seat and shut the door.
He smoothly pulled out into the evening D.C. traffic and headed toward the river. “How was the party?”
“Scintillating.”
He grinned. “I’ll bet. Here.” He handed her the transmitting device.
She pulled the tube of lipstick from the bodice of her dress, unscrewed the base and pulled out the copy she’d made of the hard drive. The flash drive slid easily into the device. After entering the code she hit send, and the piece of electronic wizardry did its thing. “Who are we sending this to, anyway?”
“Two people I trust, and you know both of them. Whoever cracks the encryption first, wins.”
“Then let’s hope I got what we need this time.”
He’d been frustratingly vague about what it was they were after, but for him to have taken this on in the first place meant it was important, and he’d approached her specifically, saying she had a vested interest that would be revealed in time. This was her third op of the mission, all involving stolen, encrypted files he wanted recovered. The first one had been in San Fran. The second in New York City. Now this.
“Third time’s the charm, right?” he said.
“That’s what they say.” Trinity reached up and removed her long brown wig, then breathed a sigh of relief as she slid off the sadistic heels. The shoes were sexy as hell, but horrible to wear. Invented by a man. “Oh, God, that feels good.” She leaned back in the seat, watching the lights and traffic out the window, relaxed but alert, and simmering with impatience to find out what was going on. “Wherever you’re taking me, there had better be wine and cheesecake.”
“I’ll order you some from room service,” Rycroft promised, a smile in his voice.
He was a good man. A hard man with a legendary reputation both in Special Forces and with the NSA. But he was fair. If you were motivated and dependable and delivered results, there was never a problem. Given some of the people Trinity had worked for in the past, that was a revelation.
They rode in comfortable silence until they reached a hotel and he turned into the underground parking garage. She didn’t bother asking him where they were going because he wouldn’t answer, and because she trusted him. She followed him into the elevator and down the hall to a room, which he unlocked with a key card.
“After you,” he said, his silver eyes full of secrets.
Not sure what to expect, Trinity stepped inside. She drew up short, barely concealing her shock when she saw they weren’t alone.
The two women waiting for them both jumped up to greet her, big grins on their faces. “Surprise,” they chorused.
She laughed and reached for the slender, dusky-skinned brunette first. “Wow, a reunion.” These two women were the closest thing she had ever had to sisters. And they had been through a lot together.
Briar DeLuca returned the hug a little stiffly, though so much less awkward about it than the former sniper would have been a few years ago. “Yep. Not sure what Rycroft’s got up his sleeve, but I know it’s gotta be good.”
Georgia was there to hug her next, blond hair cut to her shoulders, her pale blue eyes bright with excitement. “Nice to see you.”
“You too. Where’s your mysterious husband at, anyway?”
“He’s around,” her friend answered evasively, and they both grinned.
“So, wine and cheesecake all round?” Rycroft said from behind them.
Trinity faced him and arched an eyebrow. “What’s going on?” If he’d brought them all together for a secret meeting, then something big was up and she wanted details.
He gestured to the chairs in front of the flat screen TV. “Sit and I’ll fill you all in.”
When everyone was settled he leaned back against the desk and folded his arms across his chest, still broad and hard with muscle even though he was now in his mid-fifties. “I have confirmation that the Valkyrie Program was still operating up until several weeks ago.”
Stunned silence met his words, and the mood turned dark. Trinity exchanged shocked glances with her fellow former Valkyries before focusing back on Rycroft. “That’s impossible,” she rasped out. It had been shut down for a long time.
He shook his head. “You three and the others who trained with you were part of phase one. But there was a phase two as well, initiated a few years later, and it kept going even after Balducci and the others were brought down.”
Will Balducci—a former trainer and would-be senator who had betrayed them all for money and influence several years ago. He had put hits out on Briar’s and Georgia’s handlers. Then he’d tried to kill both Valkyries to cover his tracks.
Happily, he was rotting behind bars right now. But according to this latest twist, the apparent decay within the CIA and the intelligence community went even deeper than she or anyone else had realized.
“They changed the official name and buried everything deeper,” Rycroft continued. “I’d just been informed about it and authorized an off-the-books investigation, then the trail went cold. Everything stopped, almost overnight. Then I found out why.”
He pulled out his phone, typed in something and held it out so they could see the picture on the screen. It showed a young woman maybe in her twenties, her face bluish, eyes closed on top of an autopsy table. “Her name was Stacey. And she had a very interesting mark on her left hip.” He swiped to the next photo, showing a symbol they were all intimately familiar with.
It was about the size of a silver dollar, positioned on her left hip. A black crow with a sword clutched in its talons, and the word Valkyrja written inside a stylized scroll beneath it. Each Valkyrie received it upon graduating from the program.
“Her death was reported to U.S. intelligence a few weeks ago. She was poisoned with a quick-acting isotope used exclusively by Chinese operatives. Investigators found her in a back alley dumpster in Shanghai.”
Trinity shifted her gaze from the phone to him. His expression was somber. As somber as she’d ever seen it, and a warning tingle started up in the pit of her stomach. Alex Rycroft had seen and done it all. If this situation had brought him out of retirement, it was huge.
“Her name and picture were sent to a Chinese mobster one day before her death,” he continued.
“By who?” Trinity asked.
“That’s what we need to find out. Because Stacey is just one of four dead Valkyries who have turned up over the past month—ever since the media got wind of the program during the fallout from the Balducci trial. Each operative was murdered in a foreign city after completing a job there. So far, all the evidence points to them being killed by the organizations they’d previously targeted.”
Silence greeted his words as they all absorbed the gravity of the statement. Valkyries were notoriously difficult targets. Nearly impossible to find, and hard to kill. They were trained to be ghosts, and only a few people knew their true identities and locations.
Until now.
A cold wave of anger spread through her. Someone had deliberately leaked the operatives’ names and locations once the public had gotten wind of the program. A program that to her and everyone else’s knowledge had been shut down permanently.
Rycroft regarded all three of them in turn before continuing. “Here’s what I know. Whoever leaked these files is involved with the program, and they’re no longer with the CIA. They’re likely a talented hacker, because it would take an electronic wizard to get hold of those classified files that were all destroyed. Whoever they are, our target is operating alone from the outside, and I’m currently analyzing anyone who might be involved. Whoever this is potentially has files on all former and current operatives, and is selling them off piece by piece to our enemies.”
“To kill us off one by one,” Briar finished.
He nodded. “That’s how it looks right now. And that’s why I’m asking for your help to stop the bleeding before it gets any worse. Nobody knows better than you three what needs to happen. The clock is ticking. We’re in a race to find the hacker, mitigate the damage, and then bring the at-risk Valkyries in before they’re captured or killed.”
“I’m in,” Trinity said without hesitating, rubbing her thumb over her bare ring finger. Brody would
understand. Wouldn’t he?
Rycroft nodded at her, then looked at Briar. “You’re a new mom, so I’m not asking you to do field work. But are you willing to work logistics with a small, hand-picked team I’m putting together?”
“Yeah, of course, I’m in,” Briar answered, her espresso-brown eyes burning with determination.
“What about you?” Rycroft asked Georgia.
“I’m in too. Whatever you need.”
“Good.” He crossed one foot over the other. “We got one Valkyrie’s name by complete accident, and we’re trying to locate her right now.” He swiped on his phone again, then held it up so they could see the new photo.
“This is Megan Smith,” he said, showing a young Caucasian woman with hazel eyes and chestnut-brown hair. “She was last operating in western Europe, but went to ground when the Balducci case hit the airwaves. We have no idea where she is, but we need to find her, and fast, because her name was potentially leaked to a terrorist organization two days ago.”
Trinity studied the picture, trying to place her. She was fairly certain she’d never met the woman. But Megan was a fellow Valkyrie, and Trinity was going to be the one to find her. “I’ll go.”
The meeting lasted another half hour while they went over logistics and a plan of attack. As soon as they got a hit on Megan Smith’s location, Trinity would be on the next flight out of D.C.
Rycroft stopped her on her way out of the hotel room, searching her eyes. “Is Brody home?”
“He’s due home tomorrow night.” And he wasn’t going to be too happy when he found out what she had just agreed to.
His smile was understanding. “Good luck.”
On her way down the hall she rubbed her thumb over the bare spot on her left ring finger, thinking of her fiancé and then Megan.
