Exposed, p.1
Exposed, page 1
EXPOSED
Alison Golden
Gabriella Zinnas
Contents
FREE PREQUELS
PRAISE FOR THE DIANA HUNTER MYSTERY SERIES
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
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PRAISE FOR THE DIANA HUNTER MYSTERY SERIES
“Awesome.”
“On the edge of my seat…”
"Page turner.”
“I cannot tell you the last time a group of characters endeared me as quickly...”
“Diana Hunter is a strong, intelligent, and very likeable heroine.”
“Grabbed me from the first page, and I sat up until 4:30 in the morning reading it.”
“The story line is quick-paced and attention-holding. This one deserves 5+ stars.”
“This book will keep you turning the pages to find out the who, what, why, and how.”
“Couldn't put it down!”
“Left me wanting more.”
“Peter and Diana have a great chemistry.”
“I love the author's writing.”
“A pleasure to read.”
“Really captivating.”
“Fast-paced, well-written, fun stories.”
“I can't wait to read the next book in the series.”
“I'm hooked.”
“Kept me reading until the wee hours.”
“Diana Hunter is becoming one of my favorite characters”
“Super read. Cracking heroine.”
“One of the most enjoyable books I've read in a long time”
“A gem.”
“Diana Hunter is knowledgeable, experienced, quick-witted, and even sexy.”
“Can you write quicker, please?”
PROLOGUE
SALAH SAT SILENTLY in the back seat. Abdel and Jawad were talking urgently in the front. Hip-hop was coming out of the speaker by Salah’s head, the staccato beat of the words at odds with the bass note of the track. Salah leaned over.
“Here.”
“What, bro?” Abdel was driving. He glanced up into his rear view mirror to look at the boy in the back seat, black fuzz peppering his upper lip, his chin.
“Drop me here. I’ll walk the rest of the way,” Salah said softly.
“You sure?” Abdel pulled the car over.
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
With a languid stretch, Salah opened the door and loped out, dragging his backpack behind him. He hefted it onto his shoulder in one drawn-out move.
Jawad wound down the passenger door window. “See you in a few, okay?”
“Yeah, see ya.”
The black BMW flicked its lights on and pulled away, and Salah, his head down as he took the weight of the pack on his shoulder, turned toward home.
He walked past the shops and businesses that lined the main road: a loan shark, a barber shop, an auto repair. They were all closed now. A takeout advertised “Authentic Salvadorian Food.” Often, Salah would stop to pick something up, but today he didn’t feel hungry. He kept on, his tall, sloping gait telegraphing his mood better than any words. It started to drizzle.
Salah thought back to the events of his day. Things had begun as a bit of a laugh, then morphed into a mixture of excitement and danger, a personal calling, and finally, a noble cause. Now though, he wasn’t so sure.
He put the key in the lock and opened the front door of the wooden-slatted bungalow he called home. It was badly in need of repair, almost a shack. The black door was smeared with white paint where someone had attempted to clean off graffiti and given up halfway through. Rusted, broken guttering hung uselessly from a gable. Two of the three front windows were boarded up.
His family’s detritus littered the front yard, sodden cardboard and plastic cartons, mainly. No one had cleared it in months. His mother was too busy working her three jobs, his father was unable as he struggled to manage the cancer the doctors had taken too long to diagnose. Salah and his brothers didn’t care for yard work.
He shut the front door with a bang and walked to the bedroom he shared with his two siblings. It was empty. He flung his backpack onto his bed and sat down heavily. With his elbows on his knees, he put his head in his hands, his fingers splaying around his eyes as he stared at the faded, filthy carpet.
Salah sat immobile, deep in thought, before he heard his father’s voice, weak and tremulous, calling out his name. Salah stood wearily.
“Coming.”
He propped himself against the wall of the bedroom. His brown eyes, framed with lashes so long that girls at school had teased him, blinked as he took a moment to look out of the window. White emulsion, inexpertly applied, was now cracking and peeling away from the metal window frame. Salah, who’d loved the escape from daily life that English Literature had provided when he was in school, ruefully considered the metaphor. He missed the rhythm of language, the way it transported him, introduced him to new worlds and ways of thinking. He missed his friends, his teachers, their collaboration. He missed the feeling of hope the most.
Salah heard his name again and returned to the present. He regarded the dreary view from his window a moment longer before he pushed himself off and went to his father.
CHAPTER ONE
DIANA SMOOTHED DOWN her uniform, looking at herself in the mirror with a critical eye. It had been a while since she’d donned her military greens, and it was almost like looking at someone else in the mirror.
The moment she’d put the uniform on, her demeanor had changed. She went from her regular, casual bearing to standing stiffly, shoulders back, chin up. Military posture.
Putting the uniform on meant more than just a different set of clothes for Diana. She infused into the essence of her being the organization in which every man and woman would lay down their life for her, would have her back, as she would theirs. She considered donning the uniform a responsibility, one she never took lightly, and a privilege.
She had donned her combat fatigues. She would be flying down to an American base near Seattle and boarding a military transport plane headed out to Kandahar, called there at the request of Major Ethan Lennox, head of Task Force Indigo. She wouldn’t need her dress uniform in Afghanistan, that’s for sure. Diana gave herself another once over, patting her regulation donut bun to make sure it was securely fastened. She left her bedroom and walked down the hall to the guestroom whose door she always kept closed.
She sat in the room for a moment and shut her eyes. It had been over ten years now since they died, but she could still hear her parents’ voices and conjure up their faces if she concentrated hard enough. Sometimes they came unbidden into her consciousness and caught her unawares, but only if her staunch defenses were dropped. She was well practiced in those now. She knew what she had to do, and dwelling too much on her life “before” would not help her. Everything and everyone was measured and monitored, so they didn’t overwhelm her and render her lost in a sea of dysfunctional feeling.
With a deep breath, she opened her eyes and pushed herself out of the chair. She set the catch to lock. It wouldn’t do for anyone to see inside while she was gone.
“You look different, somehow,” Terri said as she came out of the kitchen, a sandwich in hand. After Terri was held hostage by an assassin who’d been baiting Diana, she never expected to see her dog sitter again. To her surprise, the student had been more than happy to stay with Max for the duration of Diana’s trip.
“Well, I am wearing a uniform,” Diana said.
Terri shook her head. “It’s not that. Yeah, I haven’t seen you in your army gear before, but you’re different somehow.”
“Don’t mess with me?” Diana raised her eyebrows.
“Oh no, that’s your normal look,” Terri grinned. “I mean something more. Steely.”
“I do, do I? And I don’t normally? I’m not sure Peter would agree with you.” Peter Hopkinson was Diana’s partner at Vancouver Police Department and would be coming to Afghanistan with her.
“Oh, I don’t know. You don’t always play har dball with him.” Terri flicked up her eyebrows and smiled conspiratorially as she took a big bite out of her sandwich. Diana squinted, not sure of Terri’s meaning, before adjusting her cuffs and straightening her jacket.
“Well, that’s good. It’s the look I was aiming for,” she said, standing up straight.
Terri giggled. “Well, you’ve succeeded.” She paused for a moment to take another bite, while Diana checked to make sure she had taken care of everything for her trip. She may look like a woman of steel but she still had to take care of paying the bills, leave money for dog food, and other mundane things. Being a hotshot wasn’t all that, all the time.
“So, when do you leave?” Terri asked, interrupting Diana’s train of thought.
Diana glanced at the time. “They should be here any—“
Before she could finish her sentence, her phone rang. It was Peter. “And they’re here.”
“I’ll be right out,” she said into the phone. A car had been sent to take them to Canadian Forces Base Comox.
Diana grabbed her regulation gym bag and kissed Terri on the cheek.
“Take care, hun,” she said.
She dropped to her haunches and gave her dog, Max a good scratch. The little Maltese terrier wagged his tail but looked so forlorn, she had to steel herself. He knew she’d be away for a while. He’d seen her packing.
“You’re too smart for your own good,” she said. “I’m going to miss you, boy.”
At that, he let out a plaintive whine that nearly brought tears to Diana’s eyes. It wasn’t as if he weren’t used to her going off for a few weeks every once in a while, and this time she didn’t expect to be gone nearly that long, but he had emotional manipulation down pat. Max was skilled in his ability to breech her emotional defenses, but she knew from experience that as soon as she walked out the door, he’d be more than happy with Terri. Until she left, however, he would do his best to blackmail her into not going.
“Mommy loves you, baby,” she said. “I’ll be back soon.”
“Go on, we’ll be fine,” Terri promised.
Diana smiled at her. “I know you will. So, you’ve got everything you need, right?”
“Absolutely. Stop worrying, everything will be fine. And yes, I know, if I’m even slightly suspicious I can call any of the numbers you gave me, and the cops will be at the door in minutes.”
Diana nodded. She’d spoken to Donaldson, the superintendent of VPD Major Crimes Division and her superior. Surgeon, the professional hitman who had taken Terri hostage, had been shipped off to a maximum security jail from which he was to be transferred to Guantánamo Bay, but Diana still felt uncomfortable leaving Terri completely defenseless in her apartment. Bill Donaldson had promised to check in on Terri regularly. He also had given her his personal cellphone number. She could call him if anything concerned her, and he’d send the troops in.
“Okay, I’m off. If anything, anything at all happens, even if you think it’s just your imagination, you make the call,” Diana told the girl adamantly.
Loose ends dangled over Diana. Surgeon, prior to holding her dog sitter hostage, had been hired by a Canadian security firm to kill another assassin whose target had been Riley Greene, a Canadian senator. The reason behind the hit was still bothering her. She suspected that that story had not yet run its course. And she wondered just what she and Peter would discover in Kandahar.
Terri put her hand over her heart. “I swear, I will call the superintendent if so much as a mouse spooks me,” she said with a grin. Then she sobered. “Don’t worry, Diana. I promise Max will be safe.”
Diana sighed and dropped her bag onto the floor. “I want you both safe,” she said as she now pulled the girl into a hug. She’d grown quite fond of Terri despite her best efforts. Terri had a lovely personality. She was bubbly and cheerful and she adored Max. She’d worked her way under Diana’s skin, almost like a little sister.
Terri hugged her back just as hard. “I promise, we’ll be fine,” she said. “Now, you go and kick some terrorist butt so that we can all be safe.” Diana’s eyes widened just a smidgeon. “Or whatever it is you’re doing,” Terri added quickly.
“Okay, I’m off,” Diana said with a smile. She picked up her bag, turned around and walked out of her apartment, closing the door behind her. She refused to look back because she knew Max would get to her again. A Captain in the Canadian Military Intelligence Branch, or INT for short, could not show signs of weakness. She had to be in command at all times.
CHAPTER TWO
IN THE ELEVATOR, Diana checked herself again in the mirror and nodded, satisfied. No trace of any emotional display.
She walked out into the low lit, neutral-toned lobby of her apartment building. “Ma’am?” Jimmy, the daytime doorman, greeted her as he popped up from behind that week’s large floral display of lilies, gladioli, and heavenly scented jasmine.
“Hello, Jimmy.”
His eyes widened. “Ms. Hunter? I didn’t even recognize you!” he exclaimed.
Diana smiled. “It’s okay, Jimmy. I’m off for a few days. Remember, Terri’s staying at my place. Would you mention that to Larry? I did tell him, but it would help if you’d remind him.” Larry was the nighttime doorman, and Jimmy’s brother.
Jimmy nodded quickly. “Sure, and I’ll check in on Ms. Jenkins every once in a while, make sure she’s okay, and that no more unpleasantness occurs.”
“Thanks, Jimmy.”
“Have a safe trip, Ms. Hunter.”
Diana smiled and walked out onto the sidewalk. A big, black SUV was waiting right out front like a big inkblot in the early morning sunshine. Peter was leaning against it, his arms folded, talking to two men in uniform. He looked good in his combat gear.
She glanced at the two men that Peter was talking to. They were sideways on to her, so she couldn’t see their features in full. She also couldn’t see their rank. Canadian field uniforms had rank insignias on the chest, and those of the two men were obscured from where she stood. That didn’t mean she couldn’t make a few interesting deductions.
This wasn’t a situation that called for any form of military stance, but one of the men was standing “at ease.” This told her that he was subordinate and that he’d been in the army for quite some time. He also didn’t speak unless directly addressed, though he did make eye contact. Every time he glanced at his superiors, his micro-expressions revealed respect and deference. Diana knew that such expressions last less than a fifth of a second and are unconscious, devoid of artifice or manipulation. Noticing and interpreting them were Diana’s specialty.
The other man’s stance was more casual, but he was a little stiffer than was necessary. This man was more animated than his subordinate, and his micro-expressions transmitted not just respect but admiration for Peter. His eyes intermittently flickered as the two men chatted.
She cleared her throat. The military strangers turned to her, snapped to attention, and saluted.
“Captain!”
She had been right about their ranks. One was a lieutenant, the other a corporal. Peter didn’t move.
“At ease, Lieutenant, Corporal…?” she trailed off.
“Lieutenant Toby Mizota, ma’am,” the taller of the two men responded quickly as his posture relaxed.
“Corporal Rodney Jones, ma’am,” said the other, still standing stiffly to attention.
“Well, good morning, Lieutenant Mizota and Corporal Jones. Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?” She ignored Peter.
The corporal grabbed her bag and put it in the back of the SUV, then swung around to the front of the car and slid in behind the wheel. Diana and Peter climbed into the back seats as the lieutenant got into the front. They were off.
