Free The Protector of Ambra (Mercenaries of Fortune, #5) by Lyn Brittan Page A

clipped an inner waist band holster and gun to her back. “If anything happens, don’t hesitate to use this. Grab the bag, get in the car and drive.”
    “I don’t think it’ll come to that.” But she hadn’t looked at him when she’d said it. Maybe she was just starting to realize the level of danger her quest for justice had put her in. Hopefully, she was right. On the chance that she wasn’t, he wouldn’t leave her unprepared.
    As before, they drove up the lane to the facility without interruption. Factory didn’t describe it. The grounds were too empty for that. This was Chernobyl, the morning after. Nothing here but three cars in an otherwise massive empty lot.
    He made note of the tires. Fresh road sludge still clumped beneath the mud flaps. No heavy duty trucks around. This all lent creditability to the theory of corporate theft. Those guys were easy to deal with. A little strong-arming and they usually caved. “Ask for a review of the facility when we get inside.”
    “I’d planned on it,” she said, eyes scanning the length of the complex. “This is creepy, right?”
    “Everything’s creepy with you,” he said with a grin. He opened his mouth to add more, but a clanging door stilled all conversation.
    “Noah,” Melody shouted with the best fake enthusiasm he’d seen in a while, then jumped out of the car.
    This was the man she’d trusted with her money?
    If there was one thing in the world Pierce hated, it was stereotypes. But this guy...
    Pierce followed close behind as he sized Noah up. He’d envisioned Noah as...well...Noah, complete with a long beard and robe. That was dumb. This Noah was a freaking Nordic lumberjack without the plaid. He had muscles on muscles that dwarfed his other muscles.
    “You went into business with the white Mr. T?”
    She didn’t answer, aside from flicking her wrist behind her back. “Noah, meet Mr. Jones,” she said, throwing her thumb towards Pierce. “He’s an IRS investigator.”
    Okay. Pierce played along with a nod, still unsure of where she thought this was going.
    Noah’s eyes swept them both. He even leaned around, as if to see if they were alone. “Melody. You didn’t call.”
    “I couldn’t. Something about discovery.”
    Discovery? Did she even know what that meant? Probably not, but it didn’t shut her up.
    “He and the government are trying to take over my whole business. I get a tax break for working with small sourced products, as long as I can prove it. Now they’re coming at me with questions about misspent funds. I dunno. Look, help me out. Show the guy around and prove that I’m getting legitimate sourcing for my chocolate. Then I can go home.”
    This was dumb. He knew it. Noah sure as hell did too. The man crossed his arms, a neat trick seeing as how they were tree trunks, and stepped forward. “I’m glad you’re here, but this isn’t making any sense, Melody.” He unhooked two wiggling fingers. “Let’s talk inside. Get out of the sun. I’ve got some beers on ice,” he said with a smile that didn’t gleam in his ‘roided up eyes.
    That was the first hint.
    Melody followed Noah inside. Pierce brought up the rear. He tried to, anyway. But both times he sidestepped to let Noah go ahead, that same lame-ass smile appeared on the man’s face. “After you.”
    Those were the second and third hints. He wouldn’t need a fourth. Right.
    Pierce ripped out his gun and shot.
    Twice.
    Guys that size usually needed a double tap. Melody whirled around with a look of absolute horror on her face.
    Pierce shrugged and kicked the lump at his feet. “What?”
    *****
    M elody had whipped around at the first groan. Only groan, actually. The next thing she heard was a thud as Noah crashed to the floor. “You killed him?”
    Casual as crap, Pierce dropped to search Noah’s pockets. “Don’t be ridiculous. I just shot him. Hold his gun for a minute.”
    “What?”
    “With tranquilizers. Nothing permanent. He’ll be fine,” he