Dare You to Run Read Online Free PDF

zone. See if it gains a response. If it doesn’t, he’s clean.”
    â€œOr smart enough to know when he’s pushed too hard,” Vitus countered, forcing his attention back to the matter at hand.
    His section leader cut him a sidelong glance. “Wouldn’t put money on that horse if I were you.”
    Vitus offered him a grin, but there was nothing nice about the expression. It was pure intent, and Vitus planned to enjoy it. “I’m still holding out on the bet I made three years ago when Tyler Martin pulled my shield. I’m going to make sure Jeb Ryland has enough rope to hang himself. And I plan to be there when he does it.”
    â€œVengeance is a double-sided blade.” Kagan offered him a warning.
    â€œSo is hamstringing a man who was sent in to recover a kidnapping victim,” Vitus replied. “I pulled his daughter out of a fucking concrete-lined hole. One her kidnappers never planned on her leaving.”
    â€œThat wasn’t the part the good congressman had difficulty with.”
    â€œYeah, well, he can get the fuck over it,” Vitus shot back.
    â€œSounds like you haven’t.”
    Vitus didn’t answer. He wasn’t going to rise to Kagan’s bait. His section leader was a master at shadow operations and as such, the man liked to know everyone’s soft spots. Damascus was his.
    What was Kagan up to? There was only one way to find out. Play the game. It looked like he was about to get a medal added to his record. It was overdue and that was a fact.
    It was also a fact that he was perfectly willing to tuck tail and run in the opposite direction. That was a first for him. But then again, Damascus tended to be a whole bundle of firsts for him. The first time he’d fallen for one of his mission targets; the first time he’d been willing to overlook his field operating procedure; the first time he’d been unable to forget a woman who had so clearly written him off. He kept walking, his fingers curling into a fist as his jaw tightened.
    A medal? It was going to feel like a goddamn brand being pressed into his chest.
    *   *   *
    Her escort was out of the front seat of the limousine before the car completely stopped. Damascus Ryland took a deep breath to steady herself before her door was pulled open, exposing her to the telephoto lens of the press. She slipped one foot out of the car, making sure her evening dress stayed over her thighs before scooting across the edge of the seat and placing her other foot on the ground. To some people it might have been overkill, the amount of attention she gave to exiting the car, but those people had never experienced the love the press had for tearing apart any gaffe she might make.
    And then there would be her father’s reaction.
    She stood with the help of one of the security men assigned to her. Her expression remained serene and poised. Her dress settled into place, exactly one inch above the polished top of her shoes, a testament to the skill of her private tailor. Or perhaps it would be more correct to say it was a blunt reminder of how much everyone lived in fear of her father’s wrath. Congressman Jeb Ryland didn’t suffer excuses, or even reasonable facts, well. If something was out of place, the reason was irrelevant.
    Oh yes, everything had to be perfect.
    So Damascus glided up the red carpet entry path to the White House like a swan. The press remained behind their barriers, snapping pictures as she softly greeted a few with grace and poise.
    Public Image.
    Critical to her ambitious father.
    Her smile faltered a little. She didn’t like referring to him as her father. “Sire” suited her feelings better. You see, fathers loved their children. Jeb Ryland only viewed her as a commodity, one to be used and exploited for his benefit.
    She refused to let that fact hurt her.
    Her sire didn’t deserve the benefit of her tender feelings. She’d learned