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  Fatal Breach

  Sydney Rye Mysteries, Book 14

  Emily Kimelman

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Sneak Peek

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  Emily’s Bookshelf

  Fatal Breach

  Sydney Rye Mysteries, Book 14

  Copyright © 2021 by Emily Kimelman

  * * *

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  * * *

  Heading illustration: Autumn Whitehurst

  Cover Design: Jun Ares

  Formatting: Jamie Davis

  Revolution

  1. the action by a celestial body of going round in an orbit or elliptical course

  2. the time taken by a celestial body to make a complete round in its orbit

  3. the rotation of a celestial body on its axis

  4. a sudden, radical, or complete change

  5. a fundamental change in political organization

  especially : the overthrow or renunciation of one government or ruler and the substitution of another by the governed

  a: activity or movement designed to effect fundamental changes in the socioeconomic situation

  b: a fundamental change in the way of thinking about or visualizing something: a change of paradigm

  Chapter One

  Sydney

  I am desperate for freedom, for peace, and for justice.

  As I leave the stinking darkness of captivity and step into the bright sun-filled day, a wave of relief washes over me. I am not free yet, though. Walking between barbwire-topped walls toward the heavy exit gate, I breathe in big lungfuls of fresh air, preparing for the next challenge. An enemy posing as a lover waits for me—the prison he’s crafted much more difficult to escape.

  I will evade him, though.

  Robert Maxim meets me at the prison gate, his smile predatory and victorious. I blank my mind. I can’t think about my plan to destroy him; Robert will see it on my face. He knows me well. He expects me to do something—it’s part of the fun for him.

  Is this fun for me, too?

  Robert’s hand cups my upper arm as he bends to brush a kiss against my cheek. His beard is soft and the scent of him engulfs me: low notes of sandalwood and fine leather balanced by a sharp tang of cold metal.

  “You look lovely,” Robert says.

  I’m wearing lightweight black cargo pants, unbuttoned to make room for my growing pregnancy and tucked into my boots, which are laced tight at my ankles—they keep spiders out when in the jungle. Under the parka Special Agent Consuela Sanchez gave me when we flew back to the States, all I have on is a thin tank top. It’s cold here in DC; not so much in Costa Rica.

  Robert’s camel hair overcoat is a few shades yellower than the copper in his beard. The collar is pulled up against the chill and his cheeks are tinged pink from the cold. A soft wind plays with his dark hair gone silver at the temples.

  Behind Robert a black SUV with tinted windows idles. Brock, his head of personal security, climbs out of the driver’s seat and comes around to open the back door. Brock is tall and broad with weathered skin the color of brushed brass. If his name were Block it wouldn’t be off by much. His eyes are hidden behind mirrored sunglasses. His dark coat captures the sunlight, seeming to hide it somewhere it will never be found.

  “Good to have you back, Ms. Rye,” Brock says in a rumbling baritone as I get into the back seat.

  “Thanks, Brock. It’s good to be back.”

  Robert joins me. “Where are we going?” I ask. “To my apartment?”

  Robert smiles. “Yes.”

  When Robert faked his own death several months ago, he really went the extra mile by leaving me most of his worldly possessions, including his apartment in Washington, DC. Now that he is forcing me to marry him to avoid prosecution—a husband can choose not to testify against his wife—he’ll be getting his wealth back.

  While the world thought Robert was dead, he spent those months working with Homeland Security to bring down a cabal of criminal organizations united against Joyful Justice—the vigilante network inspired by my legendary act of vengeance against the corrupt mayor of New York City. Legendary and, like many legends, a lie. I didn’t kill my brother’s murderer. Robert Maxim did. I didn’t exact justice when the law wouldn’t. Robert Maxim did. He stole my vengeance from me.

  The first offense in a long history of Robert Maxim pissing me off, then twisting everything so it appears he was doing me a favor. And here we are again. Homeland Security took down the cabal of criminal organizations and is now trying to destroy Joyful Justice too…trying to put me away for the rest of my life. Not that I don’t deserve it. And once again, Robert Maxim is by my side, offering a way out. Without his testimony the case against me isn’t worth pursuing.

  It’s a way out that works for him and is devastating to me.

  The bastard.

  “I may need you to sign a prenup,” I say. “You realize I’m a very wealthy woman, now.”

  Robert laughs, his blue-green eyes glittering as we merge onto the highway. “Your wish is my command.”

  “Yeah, right,” I grumble, looking out the window and watching the industrial area we’re leaving slide by in a smear of speed.

  Robert captures my hand, pulling it into his lap. “Sydney.” His voice is serious and I turn to him. “I recognize this isn’t what you wanted.”

  I huff a laugh. “You’re so observant, Robert. Was it the threat of giving birth in prison, or just the regular old forcing me to marry you?” I hold my chin with my free hand, pretending to really think. “I wonder if I’m being triggered by the fact that you’re treating me like an object to obtain rather than a person with a life and heart of my own.”

  The skin around his eyes tightens. “Sydney.” Robert’s voice is edged with impatience. The way you might talk to a child complaining about their bedtime. As if he knows best for me. I look away to keep the thoughts bubbling up in my mind hidden from him. You will learn I am not an object. Only a thinking, feeling, sentient being can ruin you the way I plan to. “If you don’t want to marry me, you don’t have to.”

  “You’re right,” I tell the window. “I could choose to give birth in prison and
have my son taken from me.” I turn back to him, the idea bringing untapped rage to the forefront. “Do you think that is a choice I’d make?”

  “No, you would rather murder me in my sleep.”

  I can’t help the lightning grin that flashes across my face. “It has crossed my mind.”

  “But I don’t think you are so heartless. You are angry with me, but we are bonded.”

  “Ha, bonded. Is that what you call this?” I try to pull my hand free from him but he holds it tight. “Bondage is more like it.” A spark ignites in his gaze and I sneer at him. “Don’t even think about it.”

  His lips twitch into a smile and he gives a small shake of his head. “I’d never want to do anything without your consent.”

  “Wow, you’re a big man. So generous. My consent. Lucky me.” He opens his mouth to speak. “You know what?” I cut him off. “Let’s just not talk for a minute. You don’t want to get punched, I’m assuming.” I shrug. “So we should stop speaking.” I yank my hand out of his and scoot closer to my window.

  “As you wish.”

  Out of the corner of my eye I see him reach into his jacket. I turn and lunge, grabbing his wrist with one hand and pinning it to his body so he can’t pull a weapon. My other hand reaches into his open jacket, and slides up his abdominals searching for the gun. I don’t find it.

  “I keep my gun on my right side, Sydney; you know I’m left-handed.” His breath touches my cheek. I tilt my face to meet his gaze. He’s so close our lips are practically touching. He’s staying very still. I’m pressing his right hand into his body. “Did you really think I’d pull a gun on you?” There is hurt in his voice. “I love you, I keep telling you.”

  I push off him, creating space between us. “This isn’t love, Robert, this is obsession and possession.”

  He removes his hand from inside his jacket pocket, revealing a black velvet ring box. “We need to make it look real.” Robert opens the lid. Nestled in pale blue satin is an elegant, subtle engagement ring—a rose gold band with a round diamond set into it. The ring is not what I expected. His ex-wives wore diamonds big enough to drown a puppy. “It was my mother’s.” He takes it out of the box. “She was a music teacher, you know.”

  “Yes.” His mom taught him to play the piano.

  “She used her hands, so needed a low-profile ring.” Something steals over his face, a memory of his mother, maybe. “She would have liked you.”

  “What would she think of you forcing me to marry you?”

  Robert meets my gaze, his eyes hard now. He’s done with this line of conversation. “I offered you an escape—”

  “You orchestrated it.”

  “Yes, that’s right, Sydney, I orchestrated taking down your enemies, bringing you immense power and wealth. The price you pay is to spend the rest of my life with me as my wife. Is it too high for the destruction of the criminal cartels you fought to destroy? For the freedom of the sex slaves you fought to save? You would give your life for the cause but won’t offer me my happiness for it.”

  “There is freedom in death.”

  “There is freedom with me if you will allow it.”

  Silence fills the car, vibrating with unsaid words. I drop my gaze to the ring. He inches it closer to me. I take the box and settle back into the seat, resting it on my belly.

  My son moves inside me, pressing against my rib and making me arch to accommodate him. “Is he moving?” Robert asks, his voice so low I almost don’t recognize it—there is something in his tone…

  “Yes.” I look over at Robert. He’s sitting perfectly still, staring at my stomach. “You want to feel him?” I guess.

  Robert’s eyes jump to mine. “May I?” There is something so incredibly human about him in that moment…I’m struck speechless. I nod and he moves closer, gently laying his hand on top of my belly. My son punches out and a smile breaks over Robert’s face. I’ve never seen his expression like this before. It’s soft and…vulnerable.

  When Robert’s eyes meet mine again, his hand still resting on my belly, only the thin layer of my tank top between us, I can’t understand what I’m seeing. He looks…awed.

  What in the actual fuck?

  Chapter Two

  Consuela

  Consuela

  What a huge mistake. The miscalculation is…I can’t believe…stop! But my body refuses to obey. Won’t let go of him. Can’t stop touching him. I have no control. I don’t want to wrestle it back. I want Dan Burke.

  The hair on his chest is golden and soft over satin skin and solid muscle. This is a chest I can beat against, lean on…stop. I don’t want to. I kiss the solid muscle over his heart, feeling it beat against my lips.

  “Consuela.” He whispers my name, and I sink deeper into the oblivion that we create. Into this sacred space with no time or shape—just him and me.

  A muffled voice in my head is screaming but I can’t make out the words. Nothing matters but this feel, this touch…this…say it, you coward. This love.

  “I love you,” Dan says.

  The words stay locked in my chest, burning my throat, but my body moves, shifts over him, vibrating with the truth.

  I wake with a start. Dan’s heavy arm around my waist settles me, then fills me with fresh terror. A cold sweat breaks out over my skin. It’s like I’m waking from a fever dream. But it was real…

  I am a Homeland Security Special Agent and Dan Burke is one of my assets, a known member of the law-breaking Joyful Justice vigilante network, a computer hacker, and conspirator. The law doesn’t care if you conspire to save lives or take them. You are not allowed to break it. When even well-intended groups refuse to be bound by the law, civilization is sure to suffer…

  Sleeping with Dan will end my life as I know it.

  Turning onto my back, I look at him, my heart thundering in my chest. My thick bedroom curtains are pulled, but morning light cuts through a slit where the two lengths of heavy cloth meet and run across his collar bones, casting a glow onto his resting face. Dan’s eyes are closed; his sandy-colored hair, shot through with bleached rays of sunshine, is tousled around his face.

  His jaw glitters with stubble. I clench the sheet to keep from running my fingers over it. My skin holds the memory of that rough texture, and I shiver at the recall of sensations.

  Dan stirs and his lips pull up into a sweet, sleepy smile. His eyes shift behind closed lids and the smile broadens. His nostrils flare as he breathes me in and then tugs me closer, so that my nose rests in the notch between his collar bones. I feel so safe and warm and loved, yet terrified and trapped. My body stiffens and he leans back, his eyes opening. Dan blinks, his pale lashes bringing out the yellow in his green eyes. I stare at him.

  Just stare.

  He stares back.

  I’ve never done this with anyone else. Held their gaze and been held by theirs in return.

  This is a thing? How did I not know this was a thing?

  “I—” My voice cuts out. Dan waits, listening. His patience is at once appreciated and annoying. Say something!

  “Come to Sydney and Robert’s wedding with me,” Dan says, his voice a deep rumble I feel in his chest where my hands are still pressed. I blink. Blink again. He winces. “Too soon?”

  Manic laughter breaks out inside my brain. “Dan. I can’t. I mean…” My eyes grow wide, air brushing against the whites and stinging.

  What have I done?

  Dan bites his lower lip and just keeps staring at me. I pull away, and his hands slide off my body reluctantly as I move out from under the covers. I sit on the edge of the bed and look around the room.

  I’ve shared my bed with few men. My fiancé was the only one for the last five years. He is a good man. I need to stop this now. I have to tell Richard and beg his forgiveness. I need to just…this should never have happened. What I did is wrong. Unethical. Bad.

  The definition and root of “unethical” pop into my head unbidden—a tic left over from my vocabulary competition days—it’s
like a spelling bee but with an emphasis on the roots of words. That’s me, a vocabulary champion. I do not break rules. This isn’t me.

  But maybe it should be. No. Stop.

  Unethical (adj.) 1871, from un- (1) “not” + ethical—a Middle English word with roots in the Greek word ethos, which refers to one’s character. Related: Unethically.

  My father was so proud of my championships. Papi struggled with English grammar when he arrived at college even though he was born on the mainland because the community he grew up in switched between Spanish and English rapidly. Papi insisted that my sister and I speak proper English—he adored the Spanish language but knew that if we spoke English using Spanish syntax, as he had, it would be another hurdle we had to overcome.

  I just erected a hurdle of my own. This isn’t me. I’m not like this! I play by the rules. I’m… “I’m not going to a Joyful Justice wedding with you.” I actually laugh even though it’s not funny and my heart is trying to choke me with its crazy thudding.

  “Why not?” Dan asks, all calm and unconcerned about my career, my life. It both infuriates me and makes me want to kiss him. Something about the man’s voice, his gentle pale green eyes, those hands, the way he moves…his still and thoughtful nature.

  “Why not?” I sputter, standing up. His gaze follows me, but he does not move. Dan just keeps lying in the bed, the mounds of pillows and sheets piled around him like a first snow.