Viper's Kiss (2 page)

His teeth were bared as he roared at the occupants of the car. The side door slid open, and two figures wearing balaclavas jumped out, hoisting semi-automatic guns. Maggie gaped, then ducked as one of the men lifted the butt of his gun and aimed it at the closest window. Her heart pounded as though trying to escape her chest. Shards of glass flew over her. Strong hands grabbed her shoulders and hauled her through the window.
No, please, no!
Maggie struggled, feeling glass catch on her clothes and stockings, raking her skin as she was pulled through the window. She screamed, terror and pain amplifying her volume.

“Don’t forget the laptop,” the man holding her bellowed as his stocky accomplice ran to the front passenger door.

Detective Mallory tried to keep the door closed. The balaclava-clad man took a step back, aimed his weapon and fired.

Maggie went numb in horror as the detective’s body jerked at the impact of the bullets. The gunman’s arm swung as he aimed at Detective Bane who was trapped by the steering wheel. The detective’s stunned gaze met Maggie’s before two more shots were fired. Blood splattered the window, and Maggie sagged in shock.

Oh, my God. They’re dead
. The killer reached in and grabbed her laptop bag as she was hauled backwards into the van.

The sound of pounding footsteps and a man’s yell caught her attention. Running down the middle of the street past the queued cars was the man from outside the library.

“Help me!” she yelled. He was the only person at the busy intersection to run toward the scene. Everybody else was scrambling away and ducking for cover.

Without loosening his grasp on Maggie’s laptop bag, the stocky guy opened fire. Her would-be rescuer dived behind a parked car. The thug ran to the passenger door and jumped in.

“Please help me!” she cried out to anyone who would listen. A head popped up over the hood, and she found herself staring once again at those piercing blue eyes as the door to the van slid shut.
The man from the library.
Thank God he wasn’t hurt. Then the van reversed and she was thrown forward as it peeled around and took off.

Her assailant planted a knee on her bruised torso, holding her down while he braced himself against the side of the van. They drove at a reckless speed. Maggie tried to draw a breath, but his weight was crushing her chest.

“So, Viper, did you really think you could steal from us?”

He smashed his fist into the side of her head. Searing pain exploded in her left eye, and a racing mantle of darkness swallowed her.

Luke ran to the car as the van sped away. He swallowed the bile that rose at the sight of the stunned, bloodied and lifeless expressions of the occupants. The detectives were beyond help. He swore at the carnage and glared at the disappearing van. The crowd of stunned onlookers finally began to move, shouts and wails filling the air.

Damn!
Viper was getting away.

He ran down the street. All traffic had stopped moving. A motorcyclist had one foot planted on the road as he turned from the wrecked car to look after the disappearing van.

Luke hauled the man off the seat with a muttered apology and caught the bike before it hit the ground. He revved the engine and jumped on as its tires squealed and the bike burst forward through the maze of interrupted traffic. He leaned into a curve, sparks flying as metal met road, then he straightened the bike and leaned low over the handlebars. He pushed the image of Margaret Kincaid’s shocked gray eyes from his mind as he pursued the van. The clever spy must have orchestrated the entire escape. She’d even managed to look terrified. It had been a very good act, but she wouldn’t get away. Not on his watch.

Maggie’s eyelids fluttered.
Oh, God
. Her head felt like a bunch of miners were jack hammering inside her skull. The dark curtain lifted, and blurred light caused her to blink her eyes in an effort to focus.
Where are my glasses?
She was lying on a cold, hard surface and her muscles protested when she tried to move. She groaned. Her shoulders ached, and she realized she was lying on numb hands. She tried to sit up, but her wrists were still cuffed.

“Well, well, Sleeping Beauty finally awakes.” The droll comment came from somewhere across the room.

Maggie’s eyes sprang open. Memories of bullets thudding into bodies, blood spraying and the stinging kiss of glass against her skin held her immobile. She stared at the blurred outline of a man leaning casually against a wall. He was tall and slim, with slicked-back dark hair. There was a flash of white as he bared his teeth in a cynical smile. Was he the man who had grabbed her and hauled her through the car window?

“Hey, Tiny, let’s make our guest more comfortable,” he said, looking behind her.

Maggie twisted her head around and whimpered. “Tiny” was a dark silhouette looming out of the darkened corner. Tall and wide-chested, his appearance became more distinct as he approached, and she swallowed when she could make out lips twisted by burn scars and one opaque eye. The other eye was a deep, blazing brown, and it bore into her with grim amusement as he stepped forward. Even lacking the balaclava, she recognized him as the man who had killed the two detectives.

He raised a set of bolt-cutters above his head, and Maggie instinctively shrank from him. Male chuckles filled the small room before Tiny pulled her to a sitting position and used the bolt-cutters to cut through her handcuffs.

She bit her lip. Tiny pinpricks flooded the tips of her fingers, and her numb arms started to tingle as she moved them. Sensation began to return, and she gritted her teeth against the pain.

Her throat felt like sandpaper. “Wha-what do you want?” Her voice was raspy from a combination of fear and thirst.
They killed the detectives
.
How long before they kill me?
She could see their faces. Would they let her live long enough to identify them?

The man leaning against the wall straightened and lifted his chin to the door. “Why don’t you take Max and go get us some food. Viper and I need to talk.”

Tiny glared at him for a moment before nodding once and sauntering out of the small room. He slammed the door shut behind him.

Bony fingers grabbed her chin, and she found herself looking into mean, hazel eyes. She hadn’t even heard him move. The man was like a snake, slithery and silently menacing. His face was so close she could see the capillaries on his nose. And without her glasses, that was real close. His stale breath gusted against her cheek.

“I want what you stole,” he said, his voice low.

Maggie frowned in confusion. “I don’t understand. I haven’t—” He smacked her sharply across the face. She closed her eyes and hunched her shoulders.

“Don’t waste my time.” He grabbed her by her shirt lapels and pulled her to her feet, shaking her. “We paid you to do a job. Now we want the damned goods.”

Her cheek burned, and her jaw throbbed. If she wasn’t so frightened, she’d hit the bastard back. He’d hit her in the van, too, damn it. “I don’t have what you want!” She gritted her teeth, then closed her eyes, waiting for the next blow.

It didn’t come. She opened one eye, and he laughed.
The bastard laughed
.

“Ah, Viper, I can see we’re going to have fun.” His smile dropped, and he stared intently at her. “Or should I call you Maggie?”

A chill crept over her shoulders and down her arms. She didn’t know what was scarier, the fact that he wanted something she couldn’t give him, or that he knew her name. What else did he know about her?
Mom?
Her heart sank.

“My name is not Viper.”

The man shrugged. “Okay, Maggie, then. I’m Rupert.” His tone was conversational as he let go of her shirt and walked behind her.

I’m a dead woman
. There was no other reason for this man to give her his name unless he wasn’t going to give her an opportunity to tell anyone. Maggie shifted around, not wanting to turn her back on the man.

“We both know who you are, and I can tell you that my boss isn’t very happy with you.” He pinned her with an icy stare, his hazel eyes sparkling as though he was enjoying the moment. “I told him that’s what he gets for trusting a woman to do the job.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Maggie said, her stomach muscles clenching. He reminded her of the snake he was confusing her with, dancing back, waiting to strike.

“Oh, come on. Let’s dispense with the games. Where’s the suit?”

The suit? What were they talking about? Maggie grew cold. Tek-Intel, the detectives had said. Something had been stolen. The Visi-suit! But it was top secret. Who would have known?

Maggie shook her head slowly. “I don’t have your suit,” she whispered. She shifted on the balls of her feet, ready to flee at his attack. She didn’t know what he was going to do, but she sensed the tightly controlled menace in the man.

Rupert charged her. She tried to step out of his way, but he caught hold of her shoulder and forced her back until her body was slammed to a halt by the concrete wall behind her. She cried out, in both pain and fear at the contact. He brought his face close to hers.

“Did you honestly believe you could do the job and then keep the spoils for yourself? Did you think we wouldn’t notice the call you put out for buyers?” His voice was harsh, his head so close that his spittle flecked her face. He brought a hand up to the tie she wore and wrapped it around his fist, tightening it around her neck. Maggie’s eyes bulged at the pressure against her throat.
He’s killing me!

“You’re stupider than I thought, woman. We’ve tracked you since you hacked into Tek-Intel’s system and stole the research, then when you broke into the facility and stole the prototype. You didn’t do a very good job of hiding your trail. How do you think the cops caught on so fast?”

Maggie tried to shake her head, but the hold on her neck was unrelenting. Her pulse booming in her ears, she clawed at his wrist, trying to pull his hand away. She couldn’t breathe.

“You forget we have deep pockets, Viper. I know you’ve set up a meet tomorrow with Jafari and Tzin Shu.” He made a tsking sound. “Picking a four-star hotel for 10:00 a.m. is not a discreet meet. I know you’re going to show them the goods.” His grip tightened, and Maggie’s eyes bulged. “I suggest you cancel that meeting and deliver the prototype, as contracted.”

Darkness crept in at the edges of her vision, and her hands batted ineffectually, her body growing weak. She tried to kick him, but her legs felt heavy, her movements sluggish. His face filled her vision, and his glance flicked to her lips. An evil smile stretched across his face.

“And then maybe we can have some fun.”

He shook off the tie and trailed his hand down her chest, squeezing her breast before he turned his back and stepped away. Maggie collapsed on her knees, coughing and wheezing as she sucked oxygen into her lungs. God help her, she had to get away from this man. An approaching dark object caught her eye, and she reared back, expecting another attack.

Rupert dropped her laptop bag onto the ground in front of her. He laughed briefly before his lips tightened. His mercurial manner had Maggie wanting to scream and run in terror.

“Cancel the meeting.” He squatted next to her. “And then you can pull up the research you stole.”

Oh, heck
. What could she do? She wasn’t this Viper woman. She couldn’t give him what he wanted. She knew he’d kill her, even when he realized she couldn’t deliver his damned prototype. And if she could, she suspected he’d still kill her. How could she buy some time?

“Clock’s ticking, Viper. Time is money.” He leaned in close, his voice soft.

Maggie met his eyes as she slid her hand into her bag. His gaze dropped to her lips, and she tried to hide her revulsion. He liked scaring her, she could see that. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d succeeded. Her fingers brushed against something soft, fluffy, and her eyes widened slightly. Her knitting. She clenched her fingers around a long, cool slide of smooth plastic.

His hand rose to grasp the bun at the back of her head, and she winced as he tugged her head back.

“I hear you have a thing for cars, Viper. I’d like to see you on the hood of mine,” he whispered in her ear.

A tear pooled in the corner of her eye. Killing wouldn’t be the only thing he’d do to her, she realized. Damn it, she wouldn’t be threatened.
Not again
. Her fingers clutched the needle. In one movement she twisted slightly to face him, pulled the needle out and drove it into his neck.

His hold on her immediately slackened as he reared back, his hand flying to his bloody neck. Maggie grabbed the case and swung with all her strength as she rose to her feet. It clipped him on the temple and he fell to the side.

She didn’t look back. She stumbled to the door, yanked it open and ran, her case bumping against her legs. They were in an abandoned warehouse. The exit was all the way down at the other end of the building. Windows were closer. They ran the length of the building, although they started at five feet off the ground.

She slung the laptop bag over her shoulder and scrambled up a pile of pallets to the closest one. The latch was rusty and reluctant. A sob escaped. She couldn’t come this close to freedom only to be foiled by a damned rusty latch. She pounded her fist against it, and was rewarded by a squeak as it moved a little.

The sound of a door opening at the other end of the building sent her heart racing, and her head whipped around, her eyes wide. Tiny and a shorter, skinny man, presumably Max, entered the warehouse. They saw her immediately and shouted.

She whimpered and faced the window. She pushed the latch again, her movements frenzied as it finally gave. She hoisted herself up and over the ledge as bullets shattered the glass above her. She landed in an inelegant heap on the concrete outside amidst fragmented glass, her laptop jutting into her side.

She rolled to her feet and took off running. She looked around. More pallets, drums and containers surrounded her. Weeds grew through cracks in the pavement. She was in an industrial park. A deserted industrial park.

She ducked around the corner of another building and scurried along its length before diving behind an old forklift and several drums. She stopped, gulping in breaths. She’d just killed a man. She must have. It wouldn’t take him long to bleed out without medical attention. Her hand flew to her lips to silence the whimper she couldn’t control.
Keep it together, Kincaid
. She had to keep a cool head. Otherwise she was as good as dead. And she was renowned for using her brain, wasn’t she? The Nutty Professor, that was her nickname.
Think
. How could she get out of this mess? She listened.

Traffic sounds. Gulls. The wind. A rock skittering along the yard. Toward her. Her breath caught in her throat. One of them was nearby. Maybe both of them.

She adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder and glared at it. She wanted to drop it. The case was heavy and only impeded her. But she couldn’t. The cops had wanted it. Rupert had wanted it. What was so damned important about her laptop?

Crouching lower, she peeked around the side of the rusty drum. Max walked along the length of the building, peering through the windows as he went. It wouldn’t be long before he came upon her hiding spot. What could she use? A broken pallet lay on the ground close by, its wooden boards lying at odd angles to the bottom deck.
Perfect
.

She crawled across to the pallet and grabbed a board. A nail protruded from the end of it. She peered at it and grimaced.
Ew. Nasty.

She scuttled back to her former position, took a breath and peeked over the rim. The skinny guy was closer now. He held something.
Crap
.
He’s got a gun.
She ducked back down. and looked at the board in her hand. Somehow she didn’t fancy her odds of survival with a splintering board in her hands while he held a gun. She mouthed a swear word Sister Mary Catherine would be shocked to hear her use.

Her eyes lit on the forklift.
Was that—no, it couldn’t be.
A key. She brightened, an idea forming in her mind.

“You’ve got to be lucky some time,” she told herself. She snuck up to the forklift, careful to keep out of sight. Quietly placing the short plank of wood onto the floor of the cabin, she jammed down what she hoped was the accelerator. She kept an eye on the gun-toting gangster.

With swift hands, she undid her tie and slid it out from her collar. Pulling the steering wheel into position, and using her tie to keep it there, she focused intently on constructing a knot that wouldn’t fall apart at the first tug.
Why couldn’t Mom let me join the Girl Scouts?
She bit her lip. She knew why. Not enough money for Scouts
and
dinner on the table. Maggie scanned the levers and pressed one of them forward. She ducked back behind the forklift, peering through the bars holding up the rusted canopy. Waiting, her heart pounding, it took her a moment to realize she was trembling. The man stepped into her sights between the bars. She reached in and turned the key in the ignition.