Hotter Than Wildfire by Lisa Marie Rice

Author:Lisa Marie Rice [Rice, Lisa Marie]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Tags: Women Singers, Retired military personnel, Contemporary, Fiction, Romance, Romantic suspense fiction, Security consultants, Suspense, Abused women, Erotica, General
ISBN: 9780061808272
Publisher: Avon Red
Published: 2011-03-22T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

Seattle

“Christ, hurry up.” Montez hopped from foot to foot, breath pluming in the frigid air. He wasn’t dressed for an op and it was fucking cold up here on Cougar Mountain, ten miles from Seattle.

Driving up, they’d stopped at a hardware–fishing gear–grocery store in the sticks and bought two shovels, gloves and a big tarp.

He hadn’t actually been there when his men had buried the body, but his men had sent him the GPS coordinates, precise to the inch.

Once they were over the spot, Montez had started to dig side by side with Piet, but Piet had simply held up his hand and motioned him to one side.

O-kay.

Truth be told, he didn’t mind that he wasn’t allowed to grub around in the peaty soil, unearthing a dead body. Piet wanted to work alone? Fine.

Piet must have done a lot of gravedigging in his life, because he worked as steadily and regularly as a machine. Within half an hour, there was a huge pile of dark, loamy earth piled up next to a coffin-shaped hole with clumpy dark sides.

With half an ear, Montez had been listening to the sounds Piet was making, like a sort of music, with the background a steady whistling noise through the pines. Slide-hiss, clunk, patter. Slide-hiss, clunk, patter. The iron of the shovel biting the earth, shoveling under a clump of earth, being tossed to the side.

The sounds changed and Montez walked to the side of the hole.

Piet was digging around something. Something that was appearing minute by minute as he dug, like an image coming out of a bath of photography chemicals. Soon, Piet had dug all around and a body was exposed. Montez looked down, shining his flashlight. Blond hair, now dark with clumps of soil, a fancy designer jacket, creased and filthy, brand-new boots, still shiny. He recognized those. He didn’t recognize anything else.

Skin sloughing off from bones. Skin dark, features bloated beyond recognition. Montez frowned.

Piet glanced up briefly, without stopping his movements. “Looks different—been in the ground a week, yeah?” He spread the big tarp around the right side of the hole, letting some of the tarp dangle down over the side. “Help me,” Piet grunted, and Montez jumped in with him into the hole. They muscled the dead weight of Roddy Fisher up onto the tarp, rolling him up in it. At the end of the exercise was a long, sausage-shaped plastic roll that Piet heaved up onto his shoulders as easily as hefting a shovel.

“Let’s go,” he said.

“Go where?” Montez had no idea why he needed the body.

Piet settled the body onto his shoulder. “To stake it out, as bait.”

San Diego

Harry usually woke up abruptly, coming up out of sleep like a deep-sea diver cresting the surface at the last second with a gasp. He had nightmares often, and coming awake instantly was a self-defense mechanism.

Get me out of this fucking hellhole, fast.

But now he woke up in swoops, each stage with a little more sensory input, each stage better than the last.

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