Page 1 of Explosive Vengeance

Chapter One

Chloe Wilson tugged at the hem of her pearl gray suit jacket and checked to make sure her hair was still securely wound into a tidy bun at the back of her head before turning the corner and entering security camera coverage of the target building. Pausing on the sidewalk outside the entrance in the cool October night air, she adjusted her black-framed fake glasses, her stage makeup disguising her true appearance.

Let’s do this.

To ensure this meeting happened in total privacy, it was after hours. Situated in the center of Paris’s business district, the building was all but deserted now, only a single security guard stationed at the front desk in the lobby.

She used her security pass to scan herself in. The guard glanced up from his work to study her for a second, then went back to looking at whatever he was reading as she passed by on the way to the elevator.

The meeting room was on the nineteenth floor, the floor-to-ceiling windows framing an incredible view of the lights of Paris. Her target was already waiting for her in the private conference room next to his office. Like everything else Dominic Dubois owned, this place was sleek, expensive, and paid for with dirty money made from the criminal empire he and his brother ran.

“Ah, Gabrielle. Right on time.” A fit, attractive man in his early thirties, Dominic rose in his custom-made suit and walked to the antique sideboard to help himself to a drink. “Brandy?”

“No, thank you.” She set her briefcase on the table and sat. This was their third meeting, so she knew the layout of this entire floor—including all security measures, entry and exit points—by heart. There were no cameras in here. Because Dominic Dubois carried out his most private business transactions here. Things he didn’t want a record of or anyone else to know about. Which was perfect for her.

He didn’t realize the biggest threat to him and his empire was in the room with him right now.

Chloe held his stare, a sense of triumph rising inside her. The Valkyrie Program might not exist anymore but she was still running ops on her own because they needed to be done and she had enough money put away to live on for the time being. This washertime now. She’d chosen to spend it delivering the kind of karma to evil people that the universe wouldn’t, spreading out her targets with time and distance to mitigate the chance of being identified and captured.

Sipping his brandy, Dubois leaned back against the sideboard and crossed his ankles, completely oblivious to what was about to happen. “You’ve got the documents ready?”

The fake contract authorizing the sale of twelve women he had smuggled into France several days ago, mostly from French northern Africa. Chloe didn’t know where they were and she needed to find out if she was going to have a chance at saving them.

“Yes.” A rush of power surged through her as she watched him coolly, maintaining the ice queen businesswoman persona she’d used to infiltrate his organization to get to this point. She’d only attended a handful of meetings in person because she hated them and preferred to work anonymously, but also because it minimized the risk of her cover being blown. It added to her mystique, and Dubois ate it up.

He stared at her for a long moment, expression unreadable, then pushed up from the sideboard and crossed to the door behind her. The sound of the lock turning put her on instant alert as he turned to face her.

His dark brown gaze was shrewd. Cold as he measured her. “Remind me, Gabrielle. How long have you been working for Monsieur Roche?” Her fake boss who supposedly loved buying women sold into slavery, and then dispersing them across the globe to brothels and clients who paid top dollar.

She kept her expression passive, all the while reviewing her contingency plans for the best exfil option if this went sideways. Dominic was clearly suspicious. What did he know? “Three months.” Her cover had been set up with the help of a female friend united in their cause to rid the world of scum like the man before her—men who got rich off the suffering of the women they sold like farm animals into a fate worse than death.

“Three months,” he mused. “And yet, in all that time, my people haven’t been able to find out much at all about you. Until now.” His stare hardened. “Chloe.”

It took everything she had not to show her reaction to hearing her real name. Inside, cold spread through her gut. How did he know her name?How? She frowned at him in confusion, maintaining her cool. “My name is Gabrielle.”

His mouth twisted. “Liar.” He whipped a hand into his jacket and came up with a pistol.

Chloe exploded out of the chair and hurled it at his head. He barely had time to raise his arms to protect himself before it slammed into him, knocking him sideways. Chloe was on him the moment he hit the floor, wrenching his wrist up and back. He let out a yelp of shock and pain as the weapon tumbled to the carpet.

His gaze shot to hers in astonishment but she was already jamming a needle into the side of his neck. His eyes widened. “You—”

He never finished that sentence. The dosage in the syringe was powerful, already making him slump over. He wouldn’t lose consciousness, would remain aware of his surroundings, but unable to move.

“You’ve been a very bad boy,” she murmured, straightening to slip the syringe back into her interior jacket pocket. “But guess what? The party’s over now.”

Dominic Dubois was a waste of oxygen and needed to be disposed of. Despite the things he’d done—including keeping a personal sex slave from each new shipment of women he arranged, before selling her once the initial thrill was gone for him—corruption within the law enforcement and legal systems ensured he evaded justice at every turn.

No more. Tonight, Dominic would pay the ultimate price for all the evil and suffering he’d caused.

She dragged him from the room to the elevator reserved for his private use. The one without security cameras so no one else knew who he came and went with—or who he was smuggling in and out of the building. This freaking idiot might think he knew who she was, but he clearly didn’t, or he never would have met with her alone.

She pressed his limp palm to the biometric scanner next to the door, shoved his face into the screen for the retinal scan, then hauled him inside and rode down to the private parking area beneath the ground level. He made a garbled sound, lying in a crumpled heap at her feet.

Chloe drove him home in his own vehicle, leaving a voice text for her contact on the way. “Compromised. Picking up precious cargo at target house. Meet me at the place in one hour.”

The luxury townhome Dominic kept was in the Arrondissement de Passy, one of the wealthiest areas in all of Paris. This was his private domain, where even his security was not permitted access. She parked in the garage, entered the code she’d memorized into the security system, and dragged him into the spacious, spotless kitchen before getting to work.

By the time the drug wore off he was bound and pinned spread eagle to the wall, and she was back in her usual wardrobe of tight black cargo pants and long-sleeve shirt, her hair pulled into a long ponytail at the nape of her neck. The charges were in place, and she’d pulled the precious human cargo from the upstairs bedroom that served as the woman’s prison for the past several weeks.

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