Into the Crossfire by Lisa Marie Rice Read Free Book Online

seconds he managed to hide the necessary information in a file. He pressed
    ENTER and turned at the sound of his door opening.
    Two men, one small and armed, the other huge and un-armed, burst into the
    room. The big one stepped forward and with a contemptuous twist of his big
    hands, snapped Simonet's neck.
    The big man opened his hands and Simonet's lifeless body collapsed to the
    floor. Simonet's last thought had been of the thousands, perhaps millions, of
    Americans he had saved from attacks he hoped he had stopped.
    28

Chapter 3
    San Diego
    Nicole held up the eight-year-old Dior and the seven-year-old Narciso
    Rodriguez, one a flattering periwinkle blue, one a chic black. Blue, black,
    blue...she couldn't decide.
    It was a very good thing that she hadn't lost or gained weight over the past
    few years because there was no way she could now afford a new Dior or a new
    Rodriguez. Caring for her father ate up every spare dollar and then some.
    That was okay. She didn't miss her heady days in Geneva--young, single
    and rich. She'd had those years, enjoyed them, and now they were over.
    She was a little less young now, still single and far from rich. Her life had
    changed beyond recognition. But she didn't mind. It was worth scrambling to be
    able to take care of her father.
    Black, blue, black...
    It wasn't like her to be so indecisive. And late. When was the last time she'd
    been late for anything, let alone a date? No, not a date--an appointment. An
    agreement. Dinner-out-as-thank-you-for-unlocking-her-door. Whatever--just not a
    date.
    And yet here she was, dithering about what she was going to wear, argh!
    This was so crazy. What was she doing, going out with a man she didn't
    know? Had only exchanged a few words with? Would have crossed the street to
    avoid only yesterday?
    It had never even occurred to her that the lowlife she'd seen walking into
    and out of Reston Security might actually be the owner of the company. Clearly,
    security-company executives didn't need to dress for success. Every time she'd
    seen the man in the corridor he looked like he was coming off a drunk--incredibly
    scruffy, pissed off and none too clean.
    As soon as she got off the phone with the hedge fund manager and her
    Russian experts, having happily negotiated an excellent contract, she'd checked
    out the website for Reston Security and had read the bio for Sam Reston. It was a
    long one. He was ex-military, a former SEAL, in fact. She remembered he said
    he'd been in the Navy. Well, that was modest of him. Being a SEAL was a little bit
    more than having spent some time in the Navy. SEALs were elite soldiers who
    underwent a gruelling selection process. As a soldier, Sam Reston had been the
    best of the best.
    He didn't list his medals but there they were on his chest in the formal
    military photograph, for those who knew how to read them. Nicole was familiar
    29
    with Special Forces. It was quite likely there were other medals in a shadowbox he
    would take to the grave with him for missions no one would ever know about,
    secret to the end of time.
    He didn't have the Marine high-and-tight she was so familiar with from
    Embassies around the world, but his hair in the picture was definitely militaryshort and he was clean shaven.
    The grim expression was the same, though. She'd been right. Take away the
    military trappings and he still looked like one dangerous dude. The kind of man
    she ordinarily wouldn't speak to, let alone spend an evening with.
    But she'd given her word and that was that.
    Still, it looked like there was much more to Sam Reston than met the eye.
    The medals, for one.
    Nicole's father had always drummed into her enormous respect for the US
    Armed Forces. Her father had served in places where often the US military was
    the only thing that stood between civilization and the abyss.
    The medals on Sam Reston's very broad chest weren't there for showing up
    on time or keeping his shoes and brightwork shined. They were medals of