Traitor Games

By Sidney Bristol

The latest installment in the Tarnished Heroes series from New York Times bestselling author Sidney Bristol.

Noah White has done a lot of bad things for the CIA, but this time they've crossed the line. He knows the kill order he's been given is a set-up and the intended target is another covert agent. They’ve finally found a line Noah won’t cross. Not with her.

Lillian Matthews is living in the crosshairs and she knows it. While her friends are spread out over the globe gathering intelligence on a rogue covert agency, it's her job to keep them all connected. Only now she's the target. And her unlikely ally is the last man she'd expect.

Lillian will have to make the biggest sacrifice of her life, because Noah will stop at nothing to protect her.

Each book in the Tarnished Heroes series is STANDALONE:
* Spy Games
* Assassin Games
* Traitor Games

• Language: English
• Publisher: Macmillan Publishers
• Release date: Jul 22, 2019
• ISBN: 9781640637269

Book preview

Table of Contents

Dedication

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

Epilogue

About the Author

Discover more Amara titles…

The Protector

Dark ‘n’ Deadly

Bound by Danger

Willing Target

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2019 by Sidney Bristol. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Entangled Publishing, LLC

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Amara is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.

Edited by Heather Howland

Cover design by KAM Designs

Cover photography by Neostock

Subbotina Anna/Bigstock

ISBN 978-1-64063-726-9

Manufactured in the United States of America

First Edition July 2019

To my dream team: my husband, sprint partners, friends, agent, and editor, it wouldn’t have happened without you.

Chapter One

Friday, Washington, D.C.

Noah White glanced at the shop front windows, examining his reflection and that of the street behind him.

Four blocks, and not a single tail.

He couldn’t decide if he was pleased or disappointed. He was a damn good undercover operative, but was he this good? After three years shouldn’t someone suspect something?

When Noah had been offered this long-term contract with the CIA, he’d been close to burnout, wrung dry from back-to-back jobs in Europe that had spanned years each. Because of his in-depth knowledge helping shut down major Neo-Nazi groups, he’d been the perfect guy to infiltrate a white collar financial firm that was the front for a budding American branch of an already deadly supremacist group.

These weren’t the garden variety, truck-driving, cutoff-shirt-wearing, gun-toting kind of Neo-Nazi, white-is-right types popularized in the media. The majority of the people Noah dealt with were educated, wealthy, and twisted as fuck. Their worldview was sickening on a level he hadn’t been prepared for. Noah couldn’t wait for the day the whole firm was shut down and he could move on to another gig. Even after being with them for years Noah had to watch his back. One foot out of place and they’d get twitchy.

Good thing life wasn’t fun without risks.

Noah took a right down an alley. Tucked under a makeshift shelter of wooden pallets was a beaten-up old sport bike. Casual Friday was a blessing. He pulled an ancient leather coat from the box on the back of the bike, shrugged into it, and crammed the helmet on his head. He spared one last moment to cover the structure with a piece of oversize cardboard, then he was gone, whipping his way through the busy D.C. streets.

Tensions were high all over the city for a variety of reasons. Noah would rather not meet with his CIA handler, Hector Martinez, but he wanted to keep his job, so here he was. Being a CIA contract field asset had a lot of perks. The government needed guys like him. Guys who weren’t sworn to uphold the letter of the law. He was more about the spirit of it, which meant he bent a lot of rules that his superiors ignored. The flip side of the coin was that if Noah got caught he was on his own.

Twenty minutes later, Noah coasted into the parking lot of a remote trailhead along the river. Several other cars sat empty, their owners likely out for a stroll or jog.

He wasn’t dressed for either. He took one last look around before easing the bike up onto the sidewalk and killing the engine. He hooked the helmet on the handlebars and got off, his whole body seeming to vibrate from the shoddy shocks.

A familiar broad-shouldered man leaned up against a brick wall overlooking the river twenty yards down the shaded path.

Noah wished he knew what this meet was about. There was plenty of chatter at the day job, but nothing worth acting on. People were still buzzing about the recent election of Senator-now-President Fowler, but most had taken the wait-and-see option.

He approached the large man in the long coat slowly, directing his gaze out over the water.

I thought you’d have been here already, Hector drawled.

I can’t split whenever you want to shoot the bull. Noah braced his forearms on the railing and stared out at the river. There’s a lot of chatter, but no real plans. They’ve stopped moving money around, but the brainstorming sessions have started again. Talk is about who to back for the midterms, what lobbies to push.

I didn’t bring you here to talk about that, Hector said.

Noah frowned. What the hell else would Hector want to talk to him about?

You still haven’t spoken to Rand or Sarah?

What? No. Noah scowled while his insides were churning. Shit. Did Hector know Noah was playing a double game?

A year ago shit had hit the fan with fellow contract operative Rand Duncan. He and his girlfriend had not merely opened a can of worms, they’d blown it to pieces in a manner Noah was quite impressed with. If only those worms hadn’t been connected to a shadow organization embedded inside the CIA using government assets for profit and hanging Americans out to dry. It was the kind of heavy shit Noah didn’t want anything to do with.

There was always the danger that Hector would find out the truth. He’d been left out of things since he willingly took a step back from the events of last year. It was for the best.

So why was he asking about Rand now?

I told you, Noah said. Last time I talked to Rand was a year ago. I haven’t seen or heard from that asshole since. He won’t even send me a Christmas card, can you believe it? At least these were the events Noah was committed to where his handler was concerned.

Noah exhaled and let his eyes unfocus a tad, forcing himself to relax as much as he could. He trusted Hector about as much as he trusted anyone, which was to say not at all.

In this line of work, if he trusted someone that was when they died. Up until now the one dying hadn’t been Noah. He’d prefer to keep it that way.

I’ve got a cleanup job for you. Hector nodded to his right.

Noah tracked the movement to a stone weighing down an envelope just off the trail. His stomach knotted.

Cleanup jobs were not his cup of tea, but a necessary part of what he did. At least Hector hadn’t yet guessed Noah was still very much in contact with other, former contractors.

It’s not time sensitive, but it does need to be done right. Hector straightened and pushed his sunglasses up his nose. Make it look like an accident, suicide, I don’t care. Just make her go away.

Sending me a girlfriend, are you? That’s sweet, you shouldn’t have.

You’re a fucked-up son of a bitch, you know that?

That’s why you like me. Noah jerked his head toward the parking lot. Get out of here so I can go.

I’ll be in touch.

Noah pulled out his phone and dicked around while Hector’s footsteps faded and a car engine rumbled to life. Only when Noah was certain he was alone did he pick his way off the trail to where the envelope was.

He opened the package and peered at the contents.

A few photographs he didn’t examine and a USB that would no doubt have the rest of the target’s information on it.

The government couldn’t kill their own people, but contractors could. All the perks of being a CIA company man, but none of the rules. It was a double-edged sword.

He ambled down the path under the cover of the trees but didn’t spy another human being. He tugged the pictures out so he could get a look at the target.

Noah’s mouth went dry and the world seemed to tilt a bit the instant his eyes landed on the woman’s face. He stepped off the path and leaned against a tree for support.

Not her. Please, no.

Whoever had taken the picture caught her in a moment of surprised laughter. He’d heard that magical sound a few times, but mostly she just glared at him. He couldn’t really blame her. He had dragged a dead body through her office. Bloodstains were a bitch to get out, except then the building had blown up so she had bigger things to worry about. She’d left an impression on him though, one that had stuck with him, coming back to tantalize his memory when he should have been paying attention to other things.

Lillian Matthews was a good person with the heart of an angel. So much better than himself. People like her were the reason he did this job. They needed to be protected, and now someone had put a price on her head.

Shit, shit, shit. He shoved the whole package into his inner jacket pocket.

Sweat broke out along his spine and his throat closed up.

No one loyal to the CIA had issued this order.

Whoever wanted Lillian dead was dirty and more than likely part of the same secret intelligence agency imbedded within the CIA that they’d learned about close to two years ago. Lillian worked for her family’s D.C. firm as a fixer, which was how she’d gotten involved in the plot to uncover the organization they only knew of by the letters SICA, trying to uncover the evils being committed under the American flag.

From what he understood, they’d glimpsed the nightmare behind the curtain during an op gone wrong to rescue another operative’s girlfriend. Rand and Sarah had gotten involved with some scary guys and Noah had been more than happy for the chance to do something. If he’d known when Rand and Sarah called on him for help that he’d eventually be here, in this park, holding a kill order on Lillian, would he have answered?

His gut said yes. But now he was caught between the CIA and Lillian.

If it weren’t for SICA and this whole mess Noah would never have known of or met Lillian Matthews. He’d been doing his job, keeping his head down when his buddy Andy dragged him into the middle of this mess and toe-to-toe with the woman who’d haunted Noah’s dreams.

He kicked a rock, though it didn’t do anything to release the tight coil of tension inside of him.

Lillian wasn’t guilty of anything. Oh, she might be a touch full of herself, but Noah could appreciate a healthy ego. Her worst crimes were wanting to do what was right and not looking out for her own best interests.

He strode back to his bike, rolling his options around in his head.

If he went through with the job, the world would get a little bit darker. He’d done a lot of bad things in his time on this earth, but he wasn’t sure he could do this. If he didn’t, he’d be signing his own death warrant. He’d be all but admitting his part in the plot to uncover SICA. Besides, contractors who began refusing direct orders didn’t have a job—or a life—after that. The hard truth was, if he didn’t kill her, someone else would. This group would cover their ass by eliminating everything and everyone in their path. Including him.

He should kill her.

How would he do it?

Noah squeezed his eyes shut.

No, he didn’t want to go there. So what the hell was he going to do?

…

Saturday, Lillian Matthews’ Home, Washington, D.C.

Lillian Matthews watched the broad shoulders of the man in her living room through the two windows at the front of her house. How was it her life had come to this?

Every night was the same now. She’d leave work with her coworker, Jesse, and wait for him to check her home over, searching for a killer lying in wait, any sign of intrusion, and when he was satisfied, Lillian could do what she did every night. Jog miles on her treadmill, guzzle water, and lie to herself.

It would all be just fine.

Ha.

Jesse flipped off the lights and she blew out a breath.

The house was clear. She could lock herself up for the night.

Lillian gathered her things and met Jesse on the sidewalk. Even in the darkness she could feel his scowl.

Coworker. As if. He was more like the overprotective big brother she’d never asked for.

I know. I should wait for you. I’m just tired. She breezed past Jesse. Thanks again.

Call me in the morning, he said.

The days when Lillian could come and go as she pleased were gone.

She was living a double life.

By day, she carried on with her normal routine, working at the Matthews Corp, talking to clients, doing what the Matthews family did best. Fix things.

By night, she was helping save the world. She’d had ideas about doing her part to protect people, make a difference. She should have asked the people at the CIA for more details back then, but she’d gotten caught up in the moment, holding her best friend as she mourned the death of her mother. It sure as hell wasn’t manning a secure network of covert agents spread across the globe working to ferret out the bad guys.

She was in way, way over her head.

Lillian locked her front door and made a circuit of the living room, closing the blinds and pulling the curtains, shutting out the rest of the world. Sometimes she wished she could tune out, stop being involved, hide, but that would solve nothing.

Her stomach twisted and growled like a living thing.

Had she eaten today?

Cooking was out of the question. She was worn out, and still had so much to do, so something microwaveable it was.

Lillian unbuttoned her jacket and laid it over the back of the closest dining chair. She needed to check over the plans for work before her sister, Camilla, called, and after that chat Lillian could really begin working. If she got to bed before two it would be a good night.

She pulled the freezer door open and stared at the options.

That pesto pasta thing is pretty good.

The sound of a voice, a male voice at that, in her home when she should be alone sent a surge of panic coursing through her veins. Lillian gasped and whirled, clutching the first dinner she could grasp to her chest.

A pair of blue eyes twinkled at her. The light glinted in his blond hair. He sat on the bar stool across from her, as though she’d walked past him and hadn’t seen him. She was certain he hadn’t been there a moment ago. Then again, Noah White did take great pleasure in being a pain in her ass. Kind of like the boys in grade school who used to pull her hair.

Jesus. What are you doing here? Lillian slammed the freezer door shut, equally angry with him and frustrated with herself. How had Jesse missed a whole person?

Laundry. My washer is busted. A dimple creased his cheek on one side of his mouth. His very kissable mouth. The same one he used to say things that made her want to slap him. Most days she wanted to do both.

That’s what a laundromat is for. She ripped the package open, taking her irritation out on the cardboard.

But then I wouldn’t get to see your pretty face.

His smile put her at ease, even when she knew she shouldn’t allow him to lull her into a false sense of safety. It grated on her nerves, but she had to give him credit. He was damn good at his job if he could get her to trust him when she knew better. She dealt with liars on a daily basis. You could just Google me if that’s what you wanted, she grumbled and crossed her arms over her chest.

Nothing like seeing the real thing. He winked at her and damn if she didn’t want to chuckle. He was good.

Why are you here? she asked again.

I wanted to catch up. See what’s going on. He spread his hands. I’m totally out of the loop here.

Lillian stared at him.

He pointed at the microwave. You know you have to press the ‘start’ button, right?

She pivoted and jabbed the numbers. And pressed start.

She braced her hand on the counter and stared at him. "I’ll ask you again—why are you here?"

He shrugged and leaned on the bar. There are a lot of jobs coming down the pipeline. Curious what everyone is doing.

She returned his smile. I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Noah wasn’t on her roster. Yes, he’d helped save her best friend’s life, but he wasn’t part of their team. His call. She had offered. And that left her with questions.

He slid off the stool. What kind of music do you like?

Noah.

He crossed into the living room. I couldn’t help but notice this really cool sound system you’ve got here. I’d love to give it a go.

She followed him as far as the arch. I do not want you here, do you understand?

More accurately, he would be a distraction. He’d tease her. She’d end up laughing even though she knew better.

I’ve developed a real appreciation for dubstep. You listen to the stuff?

She followed him across the living room. Dub—what?

Dubstep. Noah grinned and mashed the buttons on the remote.

A throbbing beat set against the trilling sounds of an electronic synthesizer blared from the speakers.

Lillian clapped her hands over his ears. She growled her frustration at him, but the sound was drowned out by the godawful stuff he called music. How could he be so obnoxious, dangerous, and charming? It wasn’t fair.

She tried to snatch the remote, but Noah grasped her wrist and stepped in close. The jovial smile was gone. He stared at her with all the feeling of a statue. Those sparkling eyes of his were bitterly cold, his fingers so tight they made her wrist ache and her little finger throb.

She froze, suddenly feeling like the rabbit caught in a trap. Noah was dangerous. She could never forget that.

My handler wants me to kill you, he said just loud enough for her to hear over the music.

Kill. Her?

As in ding-dong-dead?

The music wasn’t her problem. Hell, she couldn’t even hear it past the rush of blood in her ears. Her stomach knotted up and she thought she might hurl on him.

Would he let her go if she displayed her dazzling upchuck abilities?

Part of her had been waiting for this, knowing there would come a day when she was the target. She’d simply expected it to be a surprise. One moment she was alive, the next not. She wasn’t prepared to stare death in the eyes.

Except she wasn’t dead yet.

Fight back.

All of this flitted through her brain in a matter of seconds while Noah continued to watch and wait.

She sucked in a breath and shoved her free hand at his face, doing her best to drive the palm of her hand into his throat or nose.

Noah reacted just as fast, twisting so that her blow carried her stumbling past him. He wrapped his other arm around her waist and picked her up off the ground, her back to his chest, his face next to her ear.

He kept her body close to his. Lily. Stop.

She kicked back, but her blows didn’t seem to so much as distract him. Noah was sent to kill her. He would do it, too. She’d seen him practically giddy about ending a man’s life. Would he regret her death? Would he enjoy it? She had to get to the Taser in the vase by the sofa. Her phone. Something.

Goddamn it. He let go of her and she stumbled a few steps away before he was there again, crowding her back against the wall, his face inches from hers. I’m not going to kill you. Stop acting like a brat.

The room rushed back into focus. She was aware of the smell of food. The pictures rattling on the walls from the thump of the bass. And the way Noah smelled.

The microwave dinged in the kitchen.

He jerked his head. The microwave.

She grasped a handful of his shirt, the emotional and logical whiplash a real thing. Wait. What?

Noah dislodged himself from her grip and backed up. Get your dinner.

She gaped at him. How could he talk about food when her life was on the line? I’m not hungry anymore.

He shrugged. Fine. I’ll take it out.

Lillian staggered to the sofa and fell back onto her ass as he headed into the kitchen.

If she wanted to get away, now was her chance. She could be out the door and into her car before he came back. But Noah said he didn’t want to kill her. She needed to know why, as well as who, exactly, had sent him.

She couldn’t leave without knowing everything Noah knew. Lillian gripped the sofa with both hands and forced herself to breathe, staring at the blinking audio levels on the sound system. She’d gotten it for movie nights, usually with her best friend Carol. She was gone now, wrapped up in this same spy drama that Lillian was. It was all so surreal, and she was in over her head.

Noah ambled into the living room, her dinner in hand. This is good. You sure you don’t want it?

First you want to kill me and now you’re eating my food?

Noah winked, then handed the fork and dish over. "I do not want to kill you and I’m making sure it’s not poisoned."

Lillian took it on principle and set it on the coffee table out of easy reach from Noah.

He leaned back, spreading his arms along the sofa cushions, taking up all the space he could. His fingers brushed her shoulder and she resisted the urge to lean toward him. He could still be a danger to her, and she’d be stupid to forget it.

Noah’s gaze went cold again and he tugged on a bit of her hair. You’ve got crosshairs on you, Lily. Why does someone up the ladder want you dead?

Lillian blew out a breath and faced forward, sorting her thoughts. Did she trust Noah? Could she? The others had put her in control of their operation. It was her call to bring him in or not, and she didn’t know what the right choice was.

Eight months ago, her best friend, Carol, an analyst for the CIA, stumbled onto very dangerous information. A man like Noah, a private contractor for the CIA by the name of Andy, had saved Carol. Together they’d uncovered some pretty damning evidence. It was enough that someone had tried to silence them by portraying Carol and Andy as traitors and terrorists. Whoever it was succeeded, and in doing so, sent six people on the run. A former CIA operative and his humanitarian girlfriend, Rand and Sarah, had been in hiding since last year. Lillian had the least interaction with them. Then there was Mitch and Irene, two CIA agents fighting to do the right thing. And of course Carol and Andy. The idea that the CIA had been breached, that there were enemies within the department, was something no one wanted to happen. Now that it had, anyone who knew about the existence of SICA was a target.

Noah’s voice hardened. Lily, why does the CIA want you dead?

She smoothed her slacks over her knees.

The truth was so absurd he’d never believe her.

His tone gentled and he slid his hand down her arm to her wrist. I might be your only friend right now.

He was trying different approaches, figuring out how to make her open up to him. If she wasn’t used to watching her sister do this same thing with clients it might work. She didn’t want Noah treating her like that. She didn’t want to be managed.

I need a minute. She pushed to her feet and paced the living room in time to the music.

It was kind of good for pacing. The heavy beat. It put a rhythm on her thoughts.

In the beginning, when Rand and Sarah first stumbled on the existence of a double-agent with ties to an organization no one had ever heard of, Noah had been there. Been part of the solution. But in the last few months he’d distanced himself. Why? He knew enough to be a danger to the team Lillian ran. If he was under pressure, he could easily tell someone in the CIA connected to SICA what her team was up to or what they’d done. But he hadn’t. And instead of doing as he was told and killing her, he was looking for answers. That was a good sign, wasn’t it? Unless he was here to find out what she and the others were up to. It would be completely logical to send a person she was familiar with to question her.

Lily, not to rush brilliance, but we don’t have all night. Eventually your neighbors will complain about the music.

She stopped and stared at him. How do I know I can trust you?

You haven’t called your watchdog, he said.

Watchdog? She frowned. Jesse?

She could call Jesse. He’d come. But what would Noah do then?

Yeah. Noah grinned. Deep down you know you like me, you just don’t want to admit it.

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Like you? I don’t even want to know you." That was a lie. She was curious about him, but wouldn’t stroke his ego enough to ask.

Back to the part where you tell me why someone wants to kill you. He pinned her with a serious stare. What have Rand and Andy got you involved with?

Nothing.

Lily, I’m not stupid. No one would send me to kill a pretty, harmless girl like you without reason. I know Rand and Sarah haven’t been seen since we rescued her from the Chinese. I was there when we pulled Andy’s ass out of the fire and rescued Carol. I know they’ve got you roped into something that as of this moment could get you killed. What’s worth killing you over?

She bit the inside of her lip. She knew a little about the incident that had sent Rand and Sarah into hiding.

There were times when she wanted someone to talk to about all this. She was barely thirty years old. She was in so over her head it was a wonder she hadn’t succumbed to this already.

She turned, breaking the stare with Noah. I need a real reason to believe you. To trust you. Her gut only went so far.

I’ve never told anyone about my involvement at the marina with Rand and Sarah—

She whirled around to face him. I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Noah was right behind her, not safely on the sofa.

She sucked in a breath and took a step back.

They didn’t tell you about the marina? He frowned.

No.

That was where the showdown with the Chinese happened. Rand’s girlfriend got captured. We played G.I. Joe and rescued her. Andy got to scratch a kill off his bucket list. And I got to shoot things. We all went home happy. The corners of his mouth curled up in something that was supposed to be a smile. Point is, I know a lot and I’ve said nothing. This could be your opportunity.

What opportunity is this? She tried rotating the situation in her head, but couldn’t yet see the whole picture. Who? What? Where? Why? How?

Not dying?

She threw her hands up in the air. You haven’t spoken to any of us. You’ve been out of contact for months. What changed? Why now? Why help?

His smile widened into a grin. You take me to the most interesting places. Remember that romantic stroll in the sewer?

She nearly gagged at the memory of the smell. Noah, I need you to be serious.

The smile dropped and the person staring back at her was every bit of the killer he’d been sculpted into. There were no smiles now, no sparks of mischief, just coldness. "I am serious. Give me a reason to disobey my orders. Any reason you can think of."

Lillian drew herself up. Because I’m one of the good guys and you know it.

Good guys die every day, sweetheart. Noah edged closer. I need something else.

She couldn’t tell him. It wasn’t smart. He could be lying. Because I could get your order overturned, she hedged.

He was so near now his breath brushed her cheek. You’d have to be plugged into someone pretty far up the food chain for that to be a viable option.

Did the President of the United States count?

She swallowed.

That went straight to the top of the list of things she couldn’t say to him.

She tipped her chin up. He would not rattle her. Give me a few hours, okay?

One hour.

Fine.

I’ll wait right here.

Noah—

He grasped her shoulders. Some of his badass agent mask seemed to fade. Under the grins and the bravado, he really was struggling with this.

Was it possible Noah had a heart?

The idea fascinated her.

If I don’t do this, they’ll send someone else. Someone who may be cruel. I don’t want to see you killed, but I don’t want to see worse happen to you either. We get this handled now.

She jerked her head in a nod. There were worse things than death. Wait here.

Lillian padded down the hall to the large closet under the stairs. She pulled the door open and looked at Noah. He remained standing where she’d left him, but the way he watched her made it feel as though he were right behind her. This was outside the normal protocol, but threat to life was one of the admissible deviations to the order of things.

This would change everything.

She stepped into the closet and flipped on the light. The space was just big enough for one person to stand between the rack of winter clothes and holiday boxes. She pulled the door closed and locked it from the inside. Jesse had reinforced the walls. Metal plates were hidden under drywall, creating a little bullet and bombproof room. The idea was that in the instance of a true emergency she’d be safe until someone could extract her. But it served another purpose, too.

While Lillian had contact with a limited number of CIA agents, there was only one person she answered to.

President Fowler.

And there wasn’t a soul alive who just called him up. No, getting a hold of the president required a secure line and room.

She reached between the winter coats on the left side and grabbed the black case hidden behind them. Jesse had installed a shelf on the sloping side of the closet to act as a makeshift phone desk. She set the case there and unlocked it using her code and thumbprint. The locks disengaged and she opened it, blowing out a breath.

This wasn’t what she wanted to do. Every time she had one of these chats she felt like crawling out of her skin.

How had her life led her here?

It all went back to deciding that going through the CIA Academy was a fantastic idea. She was a Matthews. She was destined to work for the family firm, but attending the academy gave her contacts and friends inside the government. Her sister had actually valued her opinion and resources. Oh, and along the way she’d managed to get their whole family company involved in a covert, off-the-books operation to hunt and eliminate

Reviews for Traitor Games

[cathygeha · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Traitor Games by Sidney BristolTarnished Heroes #3This one was hard to put down once I began reading! Action and suspense from beginning to end! With evil to thwart and lives on the line it is a near miracle that Noah and Lillian don’t end up injured or dead...several times! Noah is a CIA contractor who realizes there is a line he won’t cross so instead of killing the target he soon finds himself on the run with her trying to keep her alive. Lillian is the “handler” who strategizes and keeps all the players sorted and safe. With pursuit hot on their tale they cross borders and oceans working with others who are all out to cut the head off SICA – a hidden group that has tentacles everywhere. Will they be able to achieve their goal? How many will die in the process? What I liked: * Noah – a cool customer with a heart of gold...swoonworthy* Lillian – stronger than she realizes and brilliant, too* The other couples that had previous books but play a big part in this one, too (Mitch & Irene, Andy & Carol, Rand & Sarah)* That not everyone makes it out alive* The bad guys eventually do get their comeuppances* The plotting, writing and overall story* Demetrius – interesting guy that perhaps needs a book of his ownWhat I didn’t like; * The bad guys I was meant not to likeThank you to NetGalley and Entangled Publishing – Amara for the ARC - This is my honest review. 5 Stars