Viper's Kiss Read Online Free

reluctant. A sob escaped. She couldn’t come this close to freedom only to be foiled by a damned rusty latch. She pounded her fist against it, and was rewarded by a squeak as it moved a little.
    The sound of a door opening at the other end of the building sent her heart racing, and her head whipped around, her eyes wide. Tiny and a shorter, skinny man, presumably Max, entered the warehouse. They saw her immediately and shouted.
    She whimpered and faced the window. She pushed the latch again, her movements frenzied as it finally gave. She hoisted herself up and over the ledge as bullets shattered the glass above her. She landed in an inelegant heap on the concrete outside amidst fragmented glass, her laptop jutting into her side.
    She rolled to her feet and took off running. She looked around. More pallets, drums and containers surrounded her. Weeds grew through cracks in the pavement. She was in an industrial park. A deserted industrial park.
    She ducked around the corner of another building and scurried along its length before diving behind an old forklift and several drums. She stopped, gulping in breaths. She’d just killed a man. She must have. It wouldn’t take him long to bleed out without medical attention. Her hand flew to her lips to silence the whimper she couldn’t control. Keep it together, Kincaid . She had to keep a cool head. Otherwise she was as good as dead. And she was renowned for using her brain, wasn’t she? The Nutty Professor, that was her nickname. Think . How could she get out of this mess? She listened.
    Traffic sounds. Gulls. The wind. A rock skittering along the yard. Toward her. Her breath caught in her throat. One of them was nearby. Maybe both of them.
    She adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder and glared at it. She wanted to drop it. The case was heavy and only impeded her. But she couldn’t. The cops had wanted it. Rupert had wanted it. What was so damned important about her laptop?
    Crouching lower, she peeked around the side of the rusty drum. Max walked along the length of the building, peering through the windows as he went. It wouldn’t be long before he came upon her hiding spot. What could she use? A broken pallet lay on the ground close by, its wooden boards lying at odd angles to the bottom deck. Perfect .
    She crawled across to the pallet and grabbed a board. A nail protruded from the end of it. She peered at it and grimaced. Ew. Nasty.
    She scuttled back to her former position, took a breath and peeked over the rim. The skinny guy was closer now. He held something. Crap . He’s got a gun. She ducked back down. and looked at the board in her hand. Somehow she didn’t fancy her odds of survival with a splintering board in her hands while he held a gun. She mouthed a swear word Sister Mary Catherine would be shocked to hear her use.
    Her eyes lit on the forklift. Was that—no, it couldn’t be. A key. She brightened, an idea forming in her mind.
    “You’ve got to be lucky some time,” she told herself. She snuck up to the forklift, careful to keep out of sight. Quietly placing the short plank of wood onto the floor of the cabin, she jammed down what she hoped was the accelerator. She kept an eye on the gun-toting gangster.
    With swift hands, she undid her tie and slid it out from her collar. Pulling the steering wheel into position, and using her tie to keep it there, she focused intently on constructing a knot that wouldn’t fall apart at the first tug. Why couldn’t Mom let me join the Girl Scouts? She bit her lip. She knew why. Not enough money for Scouts and dinner on the table. Maggie scanned the levers and pressed one of them forward. She ducked back behind the forklift, peering through the bars holding up the rusted canopy. Waiting, her heart pounding, it took her a moment to realize she was trembling. The man stepped into her sights between the bars. She reached in and turned the key in the ignition.
    Nothing happened.
    Her jaw dropped as she again spun