by Dawn Kunda
From the CIA 2
Kiss the Killer
Chemist Alina Runesson lives in Sweden under the government’s witness protection program. Her look-alike cousin is imprisoned in Baghdad and her fiancé was killed saving Alina from the same fate. She cannot love a man because he will die for her, but she needs help to rescue her cousin.
CIA Agent Vic Grant escapes to Sweden to correct the illegal orders of his boss. Vic plans to recover his agents left by the US to be buried with their assignments. Sometimes the bad guy has to be killed along the way. His life is not made for relationships.
Vic and Alina meet by chance and align their missions.
Tension, frustration, and sparks of passion guide Vic and Alina as they execute their personal goals. Their itinerary is repeatedly changed according to assaults by double agents and terrorist.
He kills, she kills, and bodies are left on the side.
They have a connection called love and have to trust it’s not fatal.
Genre: Contemporary, Romantic Suspense
Length: 76,840 words
KISS THE KILLER
From the CIA 2
Dawn Kunda
ROMANCE
www.BookStrand.com
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A SIREN-BOOKSTRAND TITLE
IMPRINT: Romance
KISS THE KILLER
Copyright © 2015 by Dawn Kunda
E-book ISBN: 978-1-63259-414-3
First E-book Publication: May 2015
Cover design by Harris Channing
All art and logo copyright © 2015 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
www.BookStrand.com
DEDICATION
This book is for an awesome friend and fan, Laurie “Lou Lou” Struck. Your courage and strength have made you a survivor. Yeah, go Lou Lou!
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Thank you to all the global undercover men and women. You make a difference and some things must stay secret. A big thank you to Mike Brooks for his Atlanta workshop discussing an inside scoop on all the legal undercover national and international teams. The information was astounding and a great help for me to create fiction out of reality.
Thank you so much to the team of editors. You’ve found what I missed and helped me make my story the best it can be. Alina Cribb, thank you for unknowingly letting me borrow your beautiful name. And my husband, Dan, thank you for reading my story and correcting my gun and fight scenes. I’m glad you’re on my side because you know too much about those kinds of things. Any errors are entirely my fault.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
About the Author
KISS THE KILLER
From the CIA 2
DAWN KUNDA
Copyright © 2015
Chapter 1
Snip. Leaves fall. Snip. Curled leaves drop.
Alina Runesson gathered the withered basil leaves from the limp plant she pretended to care about. This was supposed to be her new life, simple, carefree, and without worries. Actually, she had more time to worry and think about her last contract. No matter what she did, it would still exist and follow her. Planting a late-season garden of herbs in her new residence didn’t change anything. She could still be found. Maybe she wanted to be found. Maybe being found would end the fear.
The distant view of the Scandia Mountains covered in snow constantly reminded her of the other side of reality. The mountains stretched north and south along the borders of Norway and Sweden. Sunny days brought the sight into her house. Being alone in peaceful surroundings did not give her the calm feeling her shrink told her about. Too much peace gave her too much time to consider what the chasers did to people they caught.
She spread the dozen leaves on a wooden board to dry. Her day of relaxation had run its course. Watching the chilled landscape through the window above the kitchen sink, she turned to grab her Ange jacket, not overly thick yet warm, along with her purse. Her human resources contact insisted she attend all of her appointments. The Swedish government HR claimed she’d stay safe by following the rules. She still had her doubts.
A folded sheet of paper fell at her feet when she opened the side door. She stared for a moment. An intermittent breeze threatened to claim the paper. She stamped her foot on it, stooped, causing her purse to fall off her shoulder, and snatched the paper.
Rubbing her fingers along the crease, her chest tightened. She remained crouched. It’s only a stupid piece of paper. Probably a note from a neighbor I haven’t met yet. So why am I afraid to look at it?
Sucking in her breath, Alina straightened while she unfolded the thick, dirty paper.
Don’t run. You’ll only get tired.
The computer-printed words sent a load of adrenaline through her body. Her hands shook, but she didn’t drop the message. Her palm radiated sweat and the paper stuck to it. Her body trembled. She raised her head and stared toward the woods. Blotches of snow mixed with leftover dried meadow grass gave no signal of a trail from receding footsteps. She kn
ew the messenger wouldn’t be careless enough to stick around.
She wasn’t worried about the messenger. Whoever wrote the note wouldn’t have left without her.
* * * *
“How do you feel today?” Dr. Korbic sat on her cushioned recliner, legs crossed, and Crosspen in hand ever-ready to write on her crisp legal pad all the traits she could find to commit Alina.
Alina lifted her chin slowly. She gripped the message, folded small and thick in her hand. As if Alina could offer a simple answer and move on with her life. Her throat tightened. “I feel great.” Lying almost came easily after three months of this constant intrusion into her thoughts.
Dr. Korbic began to make notations on a fresh sheet of paper but then stopped. “Tell me, Alina, if you feel great, why do I sense an edge to your answer? What has gotten better for you in the last three months?”
Usually a calm person as her former job required patience, Alina felt her old self, unrestricted and unencumbered by rules, unmistakably take over. Now she had to become another person, so it was time to bring her younger, pre-responsible-self back to life. “Because I’m forced to become someone else might be why I’m ‘edgy,’ but I have found the person I need to be.” That was a partial truth.
“Well, we have made progress, then.”
The doctor looked overly pleased with herself. It became clear to Alina that she had just found the pot of gold and decided to run with it. “Yes, I know who I want to be and have come to terms with the change in my life.” She shifted, flattening her hand on the side of her purse with the message caught between.
“Have you decided what kind of career you’d like to pursue?”
Alina held back a retort about intending to keep her recently vacated job. “I’ve decided to raise llamas.”
The doctor’s eyebrows rose as her leg twitched. “Do you know anything about these animals?”
“If I can learn how to become a chemical analyst, I’m sure I won’t have a problem figuring out how to keep a bunch of llamas alive.” Her response sounded harsher than she’d intended, but the tri-weekly marathons held in the overly brown, beige, and boring office needed to end. The neutral colors didn’t give her the serenity intended, and the lack of scent, good or bad, made for an artificial atmosphere.
“Have you had any contact with your former colleagues and friends? You do realize you should never talk about your previous life to anyone outside the program?”
“None and yes.” Lie, lie, and lie again. She rubbed the side of her purse until the note slipped into the open zipper. If she produced the note, she’d never end the ritual of patient-sees-psych.
The room became silent. Apparently Dr. Korbic wanted more. Alina could fill her with planned lies for a perfect life under the witness protection program, make a lame attempt to follow through with a few of the lies, and then continue with her own idea to end her need for anonymity. The less she talked, the safer her plan remained.
“Dr. Korbic, I don’t think I need any more of your assistance. Like I said, I feel great, I’ve started to map out a new life, and the past is the past. And it doesn’t matter that I haven’t found my passport. I won’t be using it.” That was a risky comment. Alina wasn’t sure Dr. Korbic remembered that she’d said that she’d misplaced her passport. Alina knew where it was, but she wanted to make a point of proving she wouldn’t use it. Alina wanted to cover up any hint of her plan to return to Iraq. Without a passport, she couldn’t travel out of the country.
“It would be best if you found it.” Dr. Korbic wrote a few words on her notepad. “You make my job so easy, Alina, although, I’m contracted for a few more visits from you.”
With her idea firmly embodied in her mind, Alina couldn’t turn back now. “How about I call you in place of the next couple visits?” Before the doctor could interrupt, she continued, “I promise I’ll call and report in, and if I need to see you I definitely will.” She stood, grabbing her jacket.
“Well…”
“I promise.” Not truly a lie. She’d make sure she didn’t need another in-person visit.
* * * *
Alina sat in her car and stared at her house. The authorities had pressed her to choose a different location. They said it was too close to her former residence of Stockholm. The tiny village of Gamla, just outside Uppsala and sixty-four kilometers north of Stockholm, didn’t provide the cover she needed. Alina had refused a further transfer out of the country. She had a hard time imagining living anywhere other than Stockholm itself.
The coffee-grounds color of the house had a charming appeal to those who loved old things in the country. She doubted it would grow on her, but it was a compromise on her part and the authorities, so it would have to work for now.
An earthy scent of decayed leaves filled her nostrils as she hoisted herself from the car. Most of the foliage had fallen, while the scattered few, brown and stiff, hung proudly from their host of branches. Funny, she’d never paid much attention to seasonal changes. When she worked indoors with limited window space and sanitary conditions, the outside didn’t interest her.
She couldn’t imagine a larger change in life. She went from the city to the country, from indoors to the elements, and her scientific advancements she’d worked on for so long would rot along with the leaves crusted with snow that she stepped on as she walked with faked confidence to the side of her house. Trying not to appear nervous, she held her head up and cautiously glanced about the periphery.
She didn’t see anything or anyone out of the ordinary. She didn’t expect to. She knew how the other side worked.
As she rounded her house, a set of clomping feet scuffed through the hay tossed inside the fenced area at the back of her house. She had learned enough about the llama, compliments of the previous owners, that the animal would be perturbed if an intruder had staked out near the property.
She opened the side door to throw her purse inside before greeting her new roommate. Approaching the fenced pasture, the brown-and-white llama threw her head up as Alina’s footsteps announced her presence.
“Hi, Gerty, you big furry beast.” Alina smiled as she approached her only new friend. “I bet you’re ready for dinner.” Gertrude stuck her muzzle over the fence, allowing Alina to rub her soft velvet nose. She checked the water tub as she headed for the nightly bucket of grain. With a smile touching her lips, she asked, “Since llamas are supposed to protect sheep from wolves, do you think you can protect me from my wolves, Gerty?”
Gertrude threw her head up and then sideways with a grunt.
“I hope you said ‘yes.’” Scooping the grain from a nearby bin, Alina added, “Even so, I think I better come up with an alternate safety plan.” She didn’t know how much time she’d have before the author of the note returned to act on the threat.
“Hey, Gertrude, you’re not going to spit on me today, are you?” Her voice softened as the shaggy beast lumbered to the food trough. Maybe she would raise llamas. The previous owners insisted she keep and take care of Gertrude in return for the quick sale of the home. Once Gertrude had quit spitting at her during feeding times, she almost developed a connection with the poor thing.
Initially, Alina intended to sell Gertrude, but another living being nearby calmed her. Relatives and friends were forbidden in the early stages of her witness protection. New friends are acceptable in small doses, and she had contacted her cousin, Reggie, once. She’d played innocent and asked Reggie to let her family know she was fine. Her and another cousin, Christa Leinen, would be working hard and wouldn’t be able to visit for a while. That would buy her some time.
Her family was used to her being gone for extended periods. She didn’t want the hassle of nurturing friendships, but she’d never been so lonely after moving away from humanity with so little notice.
Gertrude found her way to the three-stall barn before Alina insisted on leading her to the evening residence. The animal behaved with a lot more compliance than their first days together.
&
nbsp; Without Gertrude at her side, caution accompanied her back to the house. Opening the back door, she flicked the kitchen light on. A soft yellow glowed over the center counter. Nothing appeared unique or extravagant about the settings, but the fact that it had previously been a home gave a touch of warmth. The floorboards had scuffs and wear marks along with the stucco walls being slightly yellowed from the fireplace positioned in the kitchen, oddly enough. Guess someone used to cook over a fire.
She didn’t have culinary achievements in the kitchen. Fast and easy meals kept her from outgrowing clothes she’d worn for many years. Her clothing remained basic, different colored jeans along with a sweater worked for most occasions.
She stood in silent contemplation of a meal. Nothing sounded good. Maybe she should check out the local diner tonight. She’d only been out once for dinner in the last three months. She hadn’t made any friends and hadn’t tried. Not that she intended to find a friend, but the stillness and creepy feeling poking at her mind could use a little assuaging.
She closed all the blinds and shutters and left the light on. She supposed anyone could easily figure out if she was home or not, but a little preparation helped with the control she needed. Lifting her purse from the floor where she’d flung it earlier, she left by the side door, glanced in Gertrude’s direction, and then got in her seven-year-old Volvo S60 to head for a place to dine. She missed her Volvo V70, less than two years old, but she needed a less conspicuous vehicle.
She considered heading into Uppsala for the larger crowds where no one would give her a second glance, but against better judgment, she steered into Gamla. Alina would go part way with the agreement between herself and the witness protection force. Ultimately, new life or not, she’d have to finish business. Her plan began to form.
