Free Kiss the Enemy (Slye Temp) by Dianna Love Page A

someone approaching.
    Her mind raced, remembering who that would be.
    Were Lurch and Tattoo coming for her?
    She’d named the tall guard with the square head, hair shaved on the side and thick curly mat of black on top, Lurch. He always arrived with a short, sturdy guy whose eyes hit her chest high. She called him Tattoo after the guy who played on Fantasy Island years ago, which wasn’t fair since the real Tattoo had only been two-foot-eight and was a lot more entertaining in those old reruns.
    The Tattoo in her living nightmare was a bit of a neat freak, constantly knocking dirt off his shoes and wiping at insects that landed on his clothes. Both guards wore jungle cammies and boots, but Tattoo kept his arms covered in long sleeves. Lurch had a dull look in his black eyes and a cigarette dangled perpetually from his dark brown fingers. Tattoo’s narrow Latin eyes tilted up with a constant smirk.
    If Margaux had to guess her location based on those two being locals and speaking Spanish, she’d say South America.
    She started breathing fast, anticipating.
    Dragan said, “Rest. Not your turn.”
    The sound of a door banged open on his side.
    Her stomach twisted. She wanted to call out words of encouragement, but they’d figure out that Dragan had dug a hole through the rotting boards so she could talk to him.
    Tattoo’s annoying voice shouted at Lurch.
    Lurch’s nicotine rasp snarled something back then she heard the sound of a fist or foot hitting a body. Dragan was making them expend energy to move him and Lurch was kicking him.
    Don’t, Dragan, you have to live...
    The door slapped shut and the silence threatened to destroy her.
    Please come back.
    She had to think about something other than being left alone. More alone than she’d ever been in her life.
    She turned her head again and the throbbing almost blinded her.
    Light struggled to sneak through the narrow horizontal window above her.
    Not a window.
    A slot cut into a metal door. Too high for anything except observation. Another slot at the bottom should be for shoving food through.
    When was the last time she’d eaten? No idea. What about her last drink of water? A lifetime ago. Who had captured her? She searched her lethargic mind and came up with the Trophy Room.
    She’d gone upstairs with the bodyguard. He turned out to be Dragan. Or so he said.
    Four men attacked from two directions. She’d held her own in spite of no weapon and that damn dress.
    Then what?
    A hypodermic needle was shoved into her neck.
    Everything blurred again. Think dammit.
    There was more. She had to dredge it up, but thinking hurt like a mother. Her brain had never liked many drugs beyond aspirin or Tylenol. She did recall throwing up on her guards here when they’d dragged her to her feet. Bonus.
    The attackers could have killed them at the hotel, but she and Dragan had been brought here for interrogation. Questions about the Banker, over and over again.
    Did the kidnappers work for him or were they trying to find the Banker too?
    She’d asked. Got burned on her hand for that one.
    Way in the back of her mind, thoughts of Slye Temp huddled, biding their time to get in her face and tell her how badly she’d fucked up. But that would have to wait. She didn’t have the energy to push her mind beyond this moment and survival.
    She and Dragan would survive.
    They needed water. She wasn’t sweating.
    Her hair stuck to her shoulders and back from when she’d been soaked with sweat, but it wasn’t wet now. She hated the smell of her hot skin baking in this hut. Not a breath of air. But the little bit of light outside was dimming, which meant night would come soon.
    Events from last night—or had it been during the day?—slammed into her thoughts, jumbled up, but she deciphered enough to catch the warning.
    Relief wouldn’t come with nightfall.
    The guards would.
    Dragan was right. They took him first. Then her.
    Her headache turned into a dull pulse. Her eyes fluttered. She