Dangerous Ground 3: Blood Heat Read Online Free PDF Page A

profile and Taylor"s.
    Taylor"s jaw could have been cut from stone as he said in a flat voice, “You"re making a big mistake.”
    “Shut up.” The guy had a very deep voice, distinctive even on those two chopped syllables. Maybe an accent?
    The lid of the trunk blocked Will"s view of the giant"s body. He could try for a head shot, but what he could see of the shotgun barrel was aimed directly at Taylor"s forehead. If the guy"s finger tightened on the trigger…
    Will"s palms felt damp. Not a chance he was willing to take if he didn"t have to.
    Without turning his head, the giant called, “Come around the other side, hombre, if you do not want your partner"s brains splattered all over those cactus.
    And you, milaya moyna . You can quit hyperventilating behind the fender and get your skinny ass over here.”
    “Don"t do it,” Taylor said.
    Will watched the shotgun barrel. It never wavered. The giant said, “You do not want to fuck with me.”
    Definitely an accent. Eastern European? Surely not Russian ? The guy had one of those basso profundo voices all these oversize dudes seemed to possess. Was that anatomy or showmanship?

    Dangerous Ground 3: Blood Heat

    25

    “We"re federal agents, asshole.”
    Taylor"s voice was cold and clear. Would it kill him to soft-pedal once in a while? As dearly as Will loved his toughness, his sheer…grit, sometimes he wondered whether Taylor secretly had a death wish.
    “I know. I know you are Feds. I am a Fugitive Recovery Agent.”
    “You"re a what?”
    “Bounty hunter,” Will supplied automatically.
    “That is right. Ioakim Nemov. Licensed by the Colorado Insurance Division of the Department of Regulatory Agencies.”
    “Colorado? You"ve been following us since Colorado?”
    “That is right. That is exactly right. I followed you, and you led me straight to little Kelila.”
    Little Kelila sounded like she was getting ready to give birth any second.
    “Show some ID,” Will said.
    “I don"t care if you"re licensed by the Better Business Bureau,” Taylor cut in.
    “You"re going to be under arrest yourself in a minute for interfering in a federal—”
    “No. I do not think so,” Nemov interrupted. “I have been watching you two hombres. I have been wondering why there are no cops around. No FBI. No one but you two. You know what I think? I think this is a black op.”
    For the life of him, Will couldn"t think of an answer. For once, even Taylor seemed to choose discretion over valor.
    Nemov laughed. “I am right! I knew it. When I watched you scale the perimeter wall of the Ramirez property, I knew. Very smooth, that was. Textbook.”
    “You"re Russian mob,” Taylor guessed.
    “No. Certainly not. What interest would the bratva have in this little girl? I have told you who and what I am. Here. I have identification.” After a moment, ID
    was proffered, a wallet being shown to first Taylor, then flashed in Will"s direction.

    26
    Josh Lanyon

    Not that Will could make a damn thing out at this distance, and not that it mattered anyway. ID or not, this guy was flirting with charges for everything from interfering with law enforcement officers to kidnapping. “If you"re legitimate, what the hell do you think you"re doing?”
    Taylor said slowly, “He"s after the RFJ.”
    The Rewards for Justice Program. That"s what Taylor meant. Nemov was after the five million dollar reward the Bureau of Diplomatic Security offered to those with information leading to the arrest or conviction of anyone who planned, committed, or attempted terrorist acts against US persons or property.
    One problem with that plan: the RFJ program was designed to prevent international attacks. Not domestic.
    Maybe not the best time to bring that up.
    “That"s only for international terrorist acts, dumb shit,” Taylor said.
    “But Kelila is married to a Russian national,” Nemov said, unperturbed. “Her strike against the DSS was masterminded by none other than Mikhail Bashnakov.”
    “That"s not