DIRTY SECRET by Chelle Bliss & Brenda Rothert
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*STANDALONE - ENEMIES TO LOVERS ROMANCE**
Agent: Kennedy Barnes Target: Phoenix 'Nix' Ash Crimes: Hacker and Heartbreaker Mission: Get Close and Survive
After living her life in the shadows as the daughter of a congressman's secret affair, Kennedy Barnes joins 'Project Greenlight' - a clandestine intelligence organization. She's out to prove she's more than her father's dirty secret.
One of her first assignments is simple. Get close to Phoenix Ash, collect enough evidence to put him away for life, and get out unscathed.
Phoenix Ash is a world renowned hacker. He's pulled off some of the biggest heists in modern history, but never leaves a trace. He knows people are after him and that every day may be his last, but when he meets Kennedy Barnes everything changes.
Lines are blurred and secrets are exposed as Phoenix and Kennedy both discover they do have a weakness - for each other.
This is a STANDALONE novel, but is interconnected with Dirty Work, which is now available.
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While smoothing my sleek, chin-length bob in the mirror, I briefly consider getting my long black hair colored this shade.
“I look kick-ass with bright blue hair,” I murmur as I admire the wig.
My roommate Olivia scoffs as she walks into our tiny bathroom.
“You look kick-ass with any color hair, darling,” she says, struggling to pull down her tight black leather pants.
“Did you hit the chocolate a little hard in Switzerland?” I ask with a smirk.
“Fuck no.” She shimmies to get the pants lowered and then sits down to pee. “These pants are just plastered to my skin. I’ve been wearing them for, like, forty hours now.”
“Problems with your op?”
She sighs heavily. “You might say that. But I got what I needed.”
“Do we have any food? I haven’t eaten in forever, unless that shitty little bag of peanuts on the plane counts.”
“There’s leftover Chinese takeout from last night.”
“Sweet. I’m inhaling it after I take a shower.”
I walk into our living room and adjust my short black skirt so the lacy tops of my stockings show. My dark top has three-quarter sleeves, but it’s tight and low-cut, revealing the roundness of my breasts.
“Heels or hooker boots?” I call out to Olivia.
She walks into the living room and looks me over. “Boots.”
As I sit down and slide my black leather boots on, she’s kicking hers off.
“Holy shit, it feels good to get those off,” she says, rubbing the sole of one foot. “And what the hell is up with us flying coach, anyway? We’re out there risking our asses for intelligence information, the least our government can do is fly us first class so we can eat a decent meal.”
“You had a really shitty trip, didn’t you?”
She groans. “The shittiest. I got busted by a security guard, and he kicked my fucking ovaries into my throat.”
“You’ll have to catch me up later,” I say, grabbing my bag. “I’ve got to hit the office.”
“Good luck,” Olivia says, pulling the pins out of her dark blond hair.
The two of us have only known each other since we were paired up at the academy a year ago, but it feels like longer. The training to become a field agent for Greenlight, a black ops intelligence agency, brought us together quickly. We learned how to fight, use weapons, speak several languages passably, and covertly surveil people.
It beats the hell out of the boring desk job I’d probably have if I hadn’t been recruited by Greenlight. I have my brother-in-law Jude to thank for that. He recommended me for this job through his connections on the Senate intelligence committee. Only Jude and my sister Reagan know what I really do for a living. The rest of my family and friends think I work as a personal assistant to a demanding and very private executive. It’s how I explain working crazy hours and not being able to talk about what I do.
As soon as I step onto the sidewalk in front of our SoHo loft, a woman glances my way. Drawing attention as an undercover agent seems counterintuitive, but I learned in the academy that the best way to hide is to stand out.
And that, I’m damn good at.
Tonight, I’m meeting my handler, Rae, and then going to the Loft, a trendy nightclub with a massive underground operation. When I say underground, I’m talking in the basement of the club. Down there, high-dollar drug deals are made, illegal weapons are bought and sold, and more money is wagered in nightly poker games than most people earn in a year.
I got down there once with Alex Hassan, an arms dealer who loves coke and threesomes. Motherfucker bit down on my lip ring while he was kissing me and almost ripped it out.
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