Read Stolen Vengeance: Slye Temp book 6 for Free Online Page A

That can’t be coincidental. Don’t give him an opening again. Not on this deal.”
    Son of a bitch. “If Aram sticks his nose into my business right now, he’ll get it chopped off with a few extra body parts just for good measure.”
    “That’s what I want to hear. Make nice with Mr. Smith. Talk to you later.”
    Mr. Smith screamed of alias, but she’d run into people before who preferred to remain incognito.
    Especially in LA.
    She tossed the phone on the seat and hunted a parking space near the restaurant that was now in view. This was a quieter part of Santa Monica, where salt air from the ocean toned down the glitz.
    Two minutes.
    She’d lost a client four weeks ago when she missed an appointment, but her father had been rushed to the hospital with a severe drop in blood pressure.
    Dad came home later that night, but by then Valene’s client had turned to Aram.
    About time she had some good luck, but she wouldn’t sit back and wait on it. “Being in the game every minute is how you make luck happen, Hot Stuff,” her dad would say.
    I’m in the damn game.
    She’d close this deal for him , because she had no doubt about her dad considering the treatment. The day her mother had driven away, Valene had cried her eyes out, and told her dad she dreamed he was going to die and leave her.
    He promised her right then that he’d never leave Valene without a fight, that he’d walk through the fires of hell if that was the price he had to pay so they could spend one more day together.
    Fair enough.
    She’d crawl through the fires of hell with her hands and feet bound, if only to spend one more hour with him.
    She’d passed the restaurant entrance and was searching for a spot to park when a car pulled out of a space along the curb.
    Rock star parking karma.
    Definitely a positive sign.
    Valene maneuvered her T-bird into the slot with a three-point parallel parking maneuver and flipped down the mirror to do a quick check.
    Hair intact. Makeup not smeared.
    Eyes mysteriously smoky instead of a raccoon impression. All good, right down to her freshly pressed suit.
    She snatched her keys from the ignition, grabbed her purse and paid the meter before hurrying back the two blocks to the restaurant.
    Rule number one: Always look the part and exude confidence.
    Rule number two: Never be late.
    She’d blown rule number two sixty seconds ago.
    Thanks, Dingo . Not.
    There’d been a time that he would have mussed her hair and tried to run her late just to piss her off so he could make it up to her later.
    And he would have. All. Night. Long.
    Dingo, get out of my mind!
    Hadn’t she wasted enough time on him?
    Yes. Too much.
    The last time he pulled something as crazy as today, he’d claimed he was concerned she had a stalker. She’d bought it, right down to going away somewhere secret with him for two days while someone “checked out the stalker.”  It turned out to be a guy Valene had given the time and place she normally ran. She’d wanted a running partner, but not someone she had to meet every day. He’d shown up twice.
    She’d been so glad to have Dingo for two days all to herself, she’d let him off the hook with an ass-chewing, that he of course turned into an all night make-up party.
    The real reason she’d let him off the hook was because she realized his motivation.
    Dingo had been jealous.
    Would he ever admit it? No. But she’d enjoyed that moment of thinking she meant more than a fling.
    What about an hour ago in the van? Had Dingo pulled those shenanigans because he’d seen her with Charlie, the only man she’d had lunch with recently?
    If that were true, at least breaking into her car would make sense.
    Her stupid heart did a little jig over it until she recalled the last time, when she’d told him he couldn’t pull hoodwinks without staking a claim.
    He’d agreed and said he’d never do it again.
    That should have been her reality check. A warning flag to batten down the hatches of her heart,