by D. V. Berkom
THE END
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
DV Berkom is a slave to the voices in her head. As the author of two popular thriller series (Leine Basso and Kate Jones), her love of creating resilient, kick-ass female characters stems from a lifelong addiction to reading spy novels, mysteries, and thrillers, and longing to find the female equivalent within those pages.
Raised in the Midwest, she earned her BA in political science from the University of Minnesota and promptly moved to Mexico to live on a sailboat. Several cross-country moves later, she now lives just outside of Seattle, Washington with the love of her life, Mark, a chef-turned-contractor, and several imaginary characters who love to tell her what to do.
For more information, please visit her website at www.dvberkom.com .
If you would like to find out more about Leine and Santiago or D.V.’s other novels, see the links below.
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Amazon Author Page:
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UK: http://amzn.to/pBwClD
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Other books by D.V. Berkom
Leine Basso Crime Thrillers:
Bad Traffick (Leine Basso #2 *See excerpt below) http://bit.ly/badtraffick
Dangerous obsessions take center stage when a former assassin and a homicide detective race against the clock to find a missing girl.
The Body Market (Leine Basso #3) http://bit.ly/bodymkt
Former assassin Leine Basso is called in when a celebration south of the border turns into a nightmare.
Cargo (Leine Basso #4) http://bit.ly/cargoAMZ
Haunted by memories of an op gone bad, Leine Basso searches Bangkok for the missing daughter of an old friend, uncovering a treacherous criminal underworld where everything has a price—especially her life.
Kate Jones Thriller Series:
Kate Jones Thriller Series Vol. 1: http://bit.ly/boxset1
The first 4 novellas in the bestselling Kate Jones Thriller Series: Bad Spirits, Dead of Winter, Death Rites, Touring for Death.
Cruising for Death (Kate Jones #5): http://bit.ly/cruisingfordeath
Paradise lost…
Kate and Cole are on a luxury cruise in the Caribbean when a passenger dies of an apparent heart attack and the ship is boarded by modern-day pirates. Along with two other passengers, Kate is kidnapped by a long-lost enemy who wants to settle an old score.
Yucatán Dead (Kate Jones #6): http://bit.ly/yucatandead
She was a dangerous man’s lover…now she’s his dangerous enemy.
Hunted by a ruthless cartel boss, Kate Jones finds herself deep in the Yucatán determined to turn and fight the evil that pursues her.
A One Way Ticket to Dead, (Kate Jones #7): http://bit.ly/tickettodead
Digging up the past can be deadly…
After years of running from her ex and his subsequent death, Kate Jones is ready to bury the past and try to piece together a new normal. But first there’s a loose end to tie and it involves digging up old ghosts that are best left alone.
Kate Jones Thriller Series, Volume 2 (Cruising for Death, Yucatán Dead, A One Way Ticket to Dead): http://bit.ly/KJboxset2
EXCERPT from the next Leine Basso Thriller,
BAD TRAFFICK
CHAPTER 1
A GLASS OF Macallan single malt rested on the gold inlay table beside the gentleman in the impeccable Armani suit as he watched the images flash by on the white screen. Two other men, shrouded in darkness and each anonymous to the other, were also taking part in the video conference from different areas of the world, watching the same images. Several times one or the other would raise his hand, platinum or gold watch flashing in the darkened rooms, signaling for the Seller to pause the presentation so they could look more closely at the photographs.
The Seller was visibly sweating in the air conditioned comfort of the massive hotel suite. If he didn't make the sale this time, these clients would look elsewhere for their pleasures. His reputation as the go-to guy in the business was balancing on a knife's edge. Ever since the fiasco with the televangelist two months prior, he'd kept a sharp eye on the fiscal side of things.
One of the executives was fidgeting, apparently bored, and the Seller's anxiety level skyrocketed. He didn't have to find a mirror to know his appearance was giving his discomfort away. He could feel the cold sweat flowing down his back and armpits, running between his buttocks. What the hell do these guys want? Am I losing my touch? Usually it wasn't this hard to match the client to the product.
The Seller was down to his last two photographs when all three men simultaneously motioned for him to stop. The client in Saudi Arabia rose from his chair and walked to the screen, gazing at the delicate visage.
The Seller's shoulders relaxed. He shouldn't have been worried, should've known the eyes would close the deal: jade green flecked with gold surrounding deep black pupils. Everyone who saw her stopped in their tracks. She'd reminded the Seller of a famous photo he'd seen years before in an issue of National Geographic. She wore the same enigmatic expression. The silence of the buyers signaled it was time for the hard sell.
“Gentleman. I see you have exquisite taste. Mara is newly acquired and in pristine condition. I guarantee she will delight you with her generous charms. As I'm sure you'll agree, she has no equal. I always save the best for last. Mustn't trot out the most sublime too quickly, eh?”
There were murmurs of agreement between the men. The Seller's anxiety morphed to excitement as he prepared to set the hook. My God, look at them. They're practically salivating. A bidding war would be a welcome relief.
The client in the room waved him to his side. His unusual gold pinkie ring flashed, catching the Seller's eye. He'd seen the symbol before, but was unaware of its significance.
“Her age?” he asked.
The Seller turned and glanced at the picture of the girl. Her expression still held a trace of innocence, although churning through the American foster care system for two years had taken its toll. The photographer captured the picture before the girl had realized she wasn't going home.
“Twelve years, sir.”
“Pure?”
“Most assuredly.”
The man nodded his approval. He glanced back at the screen and steepled his fingers, bringing them to his lips to mask his words.
“Make sure she's mine,” he whispered.
The quiet statement held the promise of a lucrative payday tinged with strong warning. The Seller's mouth ran dry. He nodded as he straightened and walked to the front of the room. The cameraman panned with him, framing his head and shoulders with the young girl's photograph in the background. The other two clients would see only the Seller with her face behind him on screen. He took a sip of water from a glass nearby and cleared his throat.
“Shall we start the bidding at fifty-thousand?”
CHAPTER 2
LEINE BASSO CHECKED her watch one more time. How long can a lunch take? She'd followed him to the diner and took up position on the other side of the street, out of sight behind a minivan.
Waiting had never been her strong suit. When she was in the business working for Eric, she'd learned to pass the time until the target appeared by memorizing every detail in her immediate vicinity. In fact, many times she'd arrive days early in order to scope out the activity of the area where the hit would take place. Bus schedules, vendor movement, deliveries, residents walking their pets. Nothing escaped her notice. Her attention to every facet of the job turned out to be one of the reasons she was still alive.
But, she was no longer in the
business and now her impatience was getting the better of her. Catching a glimpse of him, even if for a moment, would suffice.
What if he sees you?
She shrugged off the thought and shifted from one foot to the other. The day was warm, with one of those deceptively clear skies so prized in Los Angeles. If she didn't know better, she'd think the air was safe to breathe.
She hated to admit it, but she was getting used to being in L.A. again. Breathtaking pollution aside, the city had a draw she'd always found hard to resist. The resident's frenetic, hive-like activity masked by a laid-back façade, and how everyone who stayed there, rich or poor, had the attitude they were living the dream. Deceptive.
Like her life.
The door to the diner swung open and a young couple stepped onto the sidewalk. Leine checked at her momentary disappointment and took a deep breath. Give it a rest, Leine. He'll come out eventually.
Minutes ticked by before the door opened again. Don Putnam emerged onto the sunlit sidewalk and slid on a pair of sunglasses. Santiago Jensen followed seconds later, jacket slung over his arm, dark hair tousled as if he'd only just rolled out of bed.
Leine's heart rate kicked up a notch as she watched him cross the sidewalk and open the door to the light-colored sedan. The force of her emotions rocked her, unbalancing her normal equilibrium. She prided herself on iron-fisted control, but when it came to Santiago Jensen the ability to think rationally deserted her without a backward glance. Viewing it as her body's ultimate betrayal, she knew enough to keep her distance. She'd be damned if she was going to add to the current problems in her life.
Or his.
Like an addict trying to kick a habit, she allowed herself the occasional glimpse. Not too close, she reminded herself. She didn't want him to know she was there. She'd done all she could to move the case against her old boss along. Once the murders were solved and Eric was behind bars, the two of them would be free to see where this attraction might take them. Until then, she had to keep her distance or Jensen could lose his detective's rank, or worse, his job.
Jensen tossed his jacket in the backseat and started to get in the car. At the last minute, he hesitated. Leine watched as his head snapped up. He straightened his shoulders and slowly pivoted, scanning the block. Leine moved to the shadows as he turned toward her, but was a second too late. His eyes locked on hers.
Leine's heart thudded in her chest. She clenched her fists, nails digging into flesh, fighting the urge to go to him. He remained motionless, his expression like a magnet. They watched each other, neither breaking eye contact. Leine sensed the electricity between them, could almost hear it snap.
The draw between them was like nothing she'd experienced with Carlos, or any other man, for that matter. She knew it was an addiction, and she was at a loss as to how to proceed. The harder she tried to forget, the more the feelings came back with an intensity she could barely fight. She woke up often having dreamt of him.
She needed to bide her time, wait until they could be together. She had to break contact or she might act on impulse and compromise the case. She wouldn't rest until Eric was behind bars. The death penalty would be too good for him.
In the end, she didn't have to do anything. Putnam reached across the seat and honked the horn to get Jensen's attention. The spell disintegrated. Jensen turned to say something to Putnam.
Leine disappeared before he turned back
***
Santiago Jensen sat at his desk in the Robbery Homicide Division offices in downtown Los Angeles and stared at his phone, fighting the urge to call Leine Basso. Catching sight of her outside the diner brought it all back—he wanted to see her, touch her skin, smell her. He craved her. All the late nights working cases only kept his mind off her so long.
“Hey, Santa. Know a good security guy who can keep a secret? I got a film star needs protecting.”
Startled, Jensen looked up as Walter Helmsley leaned against his desk. Helmsley was in his mid-thirties, had a pallid complexion for a resident of southern California, and was on his way to capturing the geek award for most movies watched by a human being. His mind was a never-ending database of film trivia. If you had a question about some obscure movie from the seventies then Walter was your guy.
“What about Ben?” Jensen asked. An ex-security specialist who'd worked the Iraq war, Ben was usually available for short-term security jobs and everybody in the division knew and trusted him. With budgets stretched thin and personnel even more so, outsourcing security detail was the norm.
“He's tied up for the next couple of weeks on some rapper's detail,” Walter said. “You know Ben. Likes the gangstas and their ladies.”
Before Jensen could stop himself he said, “Yeah. I know somebody. She's got plenty of experience and I think she's between jobs at the moment.” He had no idea if Leine would accept working a security gig, but it would give him a chance to contact her.
“She'll like this one. It's for Miles Fournier.”
Jensen frowned. “Fournier. Where have I heard that name before?”
Walter snorted. “He's only the biggest thing since Johnny Depp played an effeminate guy-liner wearing pirate.” He shook his head. “Where have you been? Ever heard of Jake Dread, Intergalactic Spy? Every female I know wants to meet him, and for mostly carnal reasons. He draws a crowd that's half giggling pre-teen girls, half sex-deprived mommies.”
Oh. Instantly regretting opening his mouth and suggesting Leine for the job, he realized he couldn’t take it back just because he might be worried about her sleeping with some movie star. Besides, weren't most of them gay? Leine wouldn't fall for some famous pretty boy.
Would she?
“I'll give her a call. What are the particulars?” Jensen asked.
“Three guys rushed him and his friends in the lobby of the Palms.”
“Not paparazzi?”
Walter shook his head. “No cameras, and the friends claim they wore guns under their jackets. Some little girl got caught in the middle when she recognized Miles and ran into the mix. His friend delivered a roundhouse kick to the face of one of the attackers. Evidently, the suspects hadn't bet on anyone with Fournier fighting back, and they scattered.”
“What happened to the girl?”
“Disappeared. Probably scared.”
“So Fournier came to you for security recommendations?”
“The dude's spooked. Figures someone's out to kidnap him. Doesn't trust outside security companies, for some reason. He'll only accept a referral from LAPD. He wants one main person twenty-four seven that he can rely on, get to know. I suggested he have someone review security around his home, maybe hire a couple of private security guards to patrol the place. He said he'd think about it. Wants our referral to do the security assessment.”
“I'll see if she's interested.”
END EXCERPT
