Fully Loaded Read online

  FULLY LOADED

  Samantha Keith

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. Except for use in a review, the reproduction or use of this work in any part is forbidden without the express written permission of the author.

  Fully Loaded © 2020 Samantha Keith

  Kobo Edition

  ISBN: 978-1-7770799-2-5

  Cover design by Covers by Combs

  Formatting by BB eBooks

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Acknowledgements and Dedications

  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

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from Straight Shooter

  More Books by Samantha Keith

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements and Dedications

  As always, I’d like to thank my incredible family for all of their support. My daughters, Skylar and Isla, I love you more than life itself and thank you for being my greatest teachers.

  To my husband, Jesse, for everything you do and for always trying to make my life easier in the simplest—and not so simple—ways.

  Mom, thank you for always being there. From babysitting, to encouraging my writing for as long as I can remember, I’m so grateful to have you.

  Finally, thank you to my readers! Dani and Brock are an explosive couple and I hope you enjoy their chemistry.

  All my best,

  Samantha Keith

  CHAPTER 1

  Ping!

  Dani cracked open an eyelid. The clock on the nightstand read 3:46 a.m. Its green glow was much too bright for her aching retinas. Whoever the hell thought they could text her at this hour could damn well wait until morning. She pulled the covers to her chin but worry gnawed at her. With Serena in her first trimester of pregnancy, she couldn’t ignore her phone. Not when she was halfway across the world, in Geneva, Switzerland. Her sister might need her. It’d be after dinner time in California, and Serena was so busy she probably hadn’t given much thought to the time difference.

  She stuck her arm out of the warm cocoon, grabbed the device, and then tucked her exposed limb back under the blanket. She brought up the unopened message that had woken her.

  Change of plans. Call ASAP.

  Dani groaned and flipped back the covers. She’d done her share of the job—had completed it only hours before. The gig that Sven, a friend she’d met while traveling Europe several years ago, had set up was far less dangerous than the jobs she usually did. She shouldn’t be rattled.

  Who was she kidding? After being kidnapped and beaten only three months ago, she was constantly on edge. Which pissed her off. Serena’s fiancé’s criminal father taking her hostage had had nothing to do with any jobs she’d been involved in at the time. It had been the simple revenge of a sick man. Afterward, she’d been in a rut for weeks, so she’d jumped at Sven’s offer to escape home and all the sympathetic eyes, get her feet back under her, and make some mad cash.

  Two hundred and fifty grand, to be exact. Stealing information from world-renowned biochemist Ubrigg Lichti hadn’t been her hardest job. Sven had wired her 50 percent of her pay last week, and she’d get the remainder upon delivering the flash drive of information to France the day after tomorrow.

  A change of plans was never good.

  She pushed herself into a sitting position and shoved her hair out of her face. Rain pattered against the window of her third-floor flat and thunder rumbled in the distance—strange how even rain sounded different in another country. She lowered her feet to the wood floor and curled her toes against the assaulting cold. She hated being cold. In California, it was sunny and warm in February. Not here.

  She made her way to the en-suite bath. Sven could wait until she peed. Then she’d call him. She hoped the cylinders in her brain were ready to work through whatever Negative Nelly dilemma he’d conjured up in the middle of the night. After finishing in the bathroom, Dani switched off the light, washing the room in darkness. She fumbled around the bed for her phone. She’d left it right—

  Creak

  Dani froze, her knee on the edge of the mattress. Her knuckles dented the duvet. Her heart rate kicked into high gear and her muscles turned to lead. The cry of wood hadn’t come from the floors beneath her feet but the hallway near the front door. It groaned every time she entered the flat. But she was tired, surely hearing things. Maybe it had come from the floor above.

  Creak

  She dug her fingernails into the comforter. Someone was in her apartment. She blinked, forcing her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Her fingers twitched to turn on a light and search for a weapon, but she hadn’t found her damn phone and there wasn’t a chance in hell she’d use the bathroom light and alert the intruder she was awake. She slid the pads of her feet across the hardwood.

  Please don’t creak, please don’t creak.

  Her silk pajama pants fluttered soundlessly around her legs as she got closer to the bedroom door. Thank god for the old, solid wood with a turn lock. She always slept with her bedroom door locked, and this feature had sold her on the flat.

  Creak . . . creak . . .

  They were getting closer. Dani lowered to one knee in front of the door and brought her eye to the keyhole. Long legs covered in dark slacks moved through a shaft of light coming from the living room windows. A flashlight swept the hall and another man broke away from behind the first one and moved to the kitchen.

  Adrenaline shot through her veins, and she stood and backed away from the door. She tried to swallow but fear had stolen the moisture from her mouth, making her throat as gritty as sandpaper. She skirted to the en suite. Her pulse hammered against her temples as she closed the bathroom door. Her fingers shook on the lock, rattling the metal. Once she locked it, she’d have to move fast. If they got into the bedroom, they’d hear her open the window and be on her ass.

  Click

  The sound echoed through the bathroom as loud as a gun shot.

  Shit! The flash drive!

  Whoever was in her apartment must have come for it, but how had they found out she’d taken the information? And so quickly? She couldn’t leave without it. She unlocked the bathroom door and stepped out.

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  The bedroom door jumped on its hinges with each blow. They’d be through it any second. She’d have to come back for the drive and could only pray they wouldn’t find it.

  Crack! Crack!

  She yelped as two bullets soared into the room, splinters of wood preceding them. She dove back into the bathroom, slammed the door, and turned the lock into position. The she clambered onto the lid of the toilet, wedged her palms under the windowpane, and hefted it up. The wind whipped against her, coating her with droplets of water. Shivers rippled down her spine and fear lit her veins, threatening to break through her skin.

  Crash!

  Cold sweat collected between her shoulder blades. They were in her bedroom. Any second a bullet would rip through her back if she didn’t hurry. She crouched, steadied herself on the window frame, and
stuck her leg out. The bathroom handle rattled. As she pressed her toes down, the ball of her foot bumped the ledge she sought. Before renting this apartment, she’d made sure there was an alternate way out—old habits died hard.

  She climbed the rest of the way out the window and a wave of dizziness assaulted her. She dug her fingernails into the stone at her back and shuffled her feet along the less-than-a-foot-wide ledge. Water splattered on her face and exposed skin, obscuring her vision and making her flesh erupt in goosebumps. She kept her head pressed back against the building, but her gaze swept the tops of the swaying trees and bushes below. If she fell, she’d either land on a bed of branches or on the concrete sidewalk. Raindrops rolled over her cheeks, and she fought the urge to dash them away. The sound of bullets cracking through the bathroom door carried on the wind. She dragged a breath into her lungs and the cold air pushed away her dizziness.

  Dani turned her head in the direction she moved. She slid her feet as quickly as she could without losing her balance. The rough stone at her back snagged her silky tank top. Five more feet and she’d be around the corner. Not only would they not be able to tell which way she’d gone, but she’d be out of range of the bullets.

  She had to make it.

  Bang!

  Hinges buckled. They were almost through the bathroom door.

  Three more feet.

  Bang!

  Two more feet.

  Crash!

  Her ribcage squeezed on a surge of panic, forcing the breath from her lungs. She curled her fingers around the corner of the building and guided her feet around the edge and out of sight. The building now blocked some of the wind and less rain nicked her face, though it didn’t really matter—she was already soaked to the bone. Nearly forty feet separated her from an escape. She needed to get down. But she also needed the drive. She had to stay close enough to see when the intruders left and then circle back for the information. A large sum of money had already been fronted for this job. She couldn’t fail. She’d been warned to keep the drive, which contained top-secret data, on her person at all times. Too bad she hadn’t thought that included while sleeping.

  Her chin trembled on a shiver and she clamped her lips together. They’d be outside in minutes, circling the perimeter. If she didn’t get off the ledge, she’d be a sitting duck. She craned her neck and looked above her. No ladder dangled from the side of the building, like it would in some kind of action movie—she was fucked.

  Her gaze landed on the nearest balcony. The old lady who lived at the end of the hall would definitely be in bed at this hour. She scurried to the balcony, gripped the icy metal rail, and climbed over. A lone lawn chair lounged on the concrete pad. It didn’t offer much in the way of cover.

  A stream of light snapped her attention to the ground. A man charged through the grass, bobbing the flashlight over every shadow. She ducked and pressed her side against the patio door, lifting her chin high enough to track his movements. His back was to her, but if he turned around and looked up, he’d see her. Fear screeched its deafening siren in her ears, and she pressed her palm to her chest to slow her heart rate.

  Please, God, don’t let him find me.

  She lifted her hand to the patio door’s handle and pulled—the glass glided open silently. Shock froze her to the spot until warmth sailed out of the apartment, coaxing her inside. Thank god not everyone was as paranoid as she was. Her balcony door was permanently locked, and she’d wedged a wooden broomstick along the track.

  She stayed low, crawled through the gap and into the living room, and shut the door. Raising herself higher onto her knees, she located the shooter’s head just as he turned in the direction of the old woman’s apartment. She backed out of view and pressed her palms against the tops of her thighs. She’d made it. Now all she had to do was retrieve the drive and head to her getaway car. Serena would call her extreme for having one, but Dani never left anything to chance—not after what had happened.

  She always needed a way out.

  She inhaled deeply to steady herself, and the musty scents of mothballs, dust, and ten-year-old candy from the dish on the table next to her wafted into her nose.

  Meow

  Dani jumped out of her skin and slapped her hand to her stomach. A black-and-gray cat sashayed along the couch then leaped to the floor next to her. Its head nudged her hand, and a deep purr rattled from its chest.

  “Hey, there.” Dani stroked its back. The satiny fur between her fingers calmed her nerves. God, she hoped they didn’t come here looking for her. The last thing she wanted to do was endanger this poor woman and her sweet cat. The animal climbed onto her lap and kneaded her pajamas with its paws. “Sorry, buddy. I can’t stay.” She lifted the cat, set it on the couch, then rose to her feet. Television chatter floated down the hallway. She followed the cackles of Thelma and Louise and stopped before the threshold to the woman’s bedroom. The kind old lady she often passed in the hall lay flat on her bed, eyes closed, snoring lightly. She didn’t speak a word of English.

  Dani skirted back the way she’d come and through the kitchen. The front door beckoned her. She couldn’t hide out here forever—what if they knocked on the door? She couldn’t have the old woman’s death on her hands. Dani brought her eye to the peephole and rested her fingertips on the door. Nothing to see out there. She backed away and her gaze landed on a wooden knife block.

  She reached over, pulled out a paring knife, and held the cool, hard steel in her palm. As she unchained the door, the sound of clanking metal made her wince. She pulled open the door and swept her gaze down the hallway toward her unit. Nothing. The men had been quiet enough getting into her apartment that they hadn’t disturbed anyone. The firing of the gun ricocheted through her memory and she realized they’d been using a silencer—the only sound had been bullets ripping through wood.

  She entered the hall. A feathery brush against her shins brought her to a halt. The cat darted into the hallway and Dani breathed a curse. She couldn’t chase it. She had to find a way back into her apartment and cause some kind of diversion. One of the men was outside but the other was probably still in her unit, ransacking it. She closed the door softly behind her and her gaze landed on the door directly across the hall.

  The electrical room.

  She cast a glance down each end of the hall and then shoved the door open. The fluorescent light above hummed and electricity whirred in the tiny space. Turning the power off would conceal her, and if anyone in the building woke, they’d attribute the outage to the storm. She approached the fuse box, set the paring knife on the floor at her feet, and narrowed her eyes at the small print. Using both hands, she flicked off the breakers two at a time. The sound of energy seizing followed each motion. She hit the last breaker and darkness closed in around her. Dread swelled in her stomach and she bent down, picking up the knife.

  She pulled open the door. More blackness met her at the threshold. She swallowed the terror climbing in her throat and stepped into the hall. In the absence of the constant drone of electricity, it was dead quiet. Quiet enough that her breath sounded like waves crashing on a shore. She clenched her teeth to stop the tremble of her chin. Water trickled from the wet strands of her hair and rolled down her exposed shoulders to fall on her bare feet. She kept one hand on the wall and the knife thrust in front of her as she moved in the direction of her unit. She had to get in and out—and fast.

  But could she stab a man in the process? Her fingers brushed over a door casing and she swept her hand across the rough wood until it landed on the door handle. If her counting of each door she’d passed was correct, this was her unit.

  Her blood galloped against her temples. She pushed on the handle and the door glided open without her having to turn the knob. She slid herself inside and closed the door. The old hinges squeaked and every muscle in her body went rigid. The sound of objects hitting the floor in her bedroom reached her ears. The guy inside hadn’t heard the door, but she had to hurry before the other man returne
d. She might be able to take down one of them, but not two at the same time.

  Dani tiptoed over the tile floor into the kitchen, where she settled against a wall and crouched. She had to draw him out of the bedroom. Standing, she grabbed a glass next to the cast-iron pan in the dish rack. Then she returned to a crouched position. She closed her fingers over the cool object.

  She mouthed a silent prayer—Please, God, let me make it out of here alive—pulled her arm back, and threw the glass as hard as she could. It shattered against the wall and dozens of pieces of glass ricocheted off the cupboards and floor. The rummaging in her room stopped.

  “Adrian? Is that you?” The man spoke in English but with a German accent. Acid rose up her throat with every stomp of his footsteps, which were coming up the hall behind her. She heard the whish of slacks rubbing together as his black shoes strode past her.

  “What the . . . ?” He stepped into the rectangle of illumination coming from the window and stared at the glass at his feet.

  Dani tore her butt from the floor, raised her arm, and jammed the knife into his hamstring.

  He screamed and cursed in German. “Fick!”

  She leaped to her feet and grabbed the handle of the cast-iron pan as the man reached around and yanked the knife from his leg. The metal hit the floor with a clatter and Dani tightened her grip on the pan. His eyes, as black as coals in the shadow, shifted to her.

  He shot out his arm but kept his injured leg rooted to the spot. He turned the muzzle of a gun toward her but she dodged out of reach and swung the frying pan into the side of his skull. His head snapped to the side and his eyes fixed on hers before rolling backward. His legs crumpled quicker than a broken fold-up chair with too much weight on it. She let out a whispered screech and dropped the pan in the sink, shaking her hands as if to erase what she’d done. She peered at the man’s slouched form. His eyes were closed but air hissed through his nose.

  Not dead.