Spotlight & Giveaway: The Asset by Kimberley Troutte

Today it is my pleasure to Welcome author Kimberley Troutte to HJ!

Hi Kimberley and welcome to HJ! We’re so excited to chat with you about your new release, The Asset!

To start off, can you please tell us a little bit about this book?:

Agent Heather Slade is in big trouble. Again. This time her cover might be blown which
could mean the end of her spying career. She’ll lose the chance to find her daughter. Just
as HQ orders her to go dark for her own safety, she receives an invite for an über-
exclusive foodie event hosted by her enemies. This could provide access to the answers
her team needs. Or it’s a trap to capture her and she won’t survive the night.
Her partner, Miguel Robles, cares for Heather too much for his own good. Risk levels
skyrocket when the double agent they’ve been searching for shows up at Miguel’s office.
But where is Heather? Has she done the unthinkable—gone on a mission without him?
The Asset (Infiltrix Series book 4) is an explosive, gritty, emotionally charged thriller
that will keep you guessing.

Please share your favorite lines or quote(s) from this book:

“Get in the car,” Gregory said firmly. “Don’t make me pick you up and toss you
in.”
Her lips twitched as if she’d envisioned the scene and found it amusing. “Fine.
Wouldn’t want you to throw your back out. I’m heavier than I look,” she said as she
passed by, wiggling her hips as she went. “It’s all in the booty.”
Damn if her comment didn’t make him look.
Just as she’d intended.
————
“I would’ve given my last breath to save you, Mike. And I’ll do it next time. If I
have to. I just wanted you to know that.”
“Heather.” The name on his lips was more than a word. It was a prayer. A cry. A
song of joy. And finally, deep hunger—intense, powerful, all-consuming. He pulled her
into his lap and kissed her with all the emotions tangled up inside him.
She matched him kiss for kiss, speed and heat, until he felt like they were flying,
soaring over the Patriot Union. Away from evil. They were both out of breath.
She pulled back and put her forehead to his. “You’re going to hate me.”
“Never. Impossible,” he said. “Why? What did you do?”
“It’s what we are not going to do tonight.” She got off his lap, lifting her eyes to
the corner of the room.
He followed her line of sight and saw a tiny bulge in the paint. A camera? His jaw
dropped. Was HQ watching them? Agent Slade had just been in his lap and they were
making out like teenagers. Wasn’t there a spy code rule about things like that?
Very gently, she pressed her fingers to his chin and closed his mouth.
“I’ll see you soon,” she said.

What inspired this book?

Current political times inspired the series. It is a cautionary tale that is both scary and full
of hope.

How did you ‘get to know’ your main characters? Did they ever surprise you?

Since this is the fourth book in the series, I am getting to know my characters well, but on
several occasions they have surprised me.
In the first book, Heather Slade told her partner that he shouldn’t care too much because
feelings can get an agent in trouble. We can see how their relationship is developing in
the first chapter of the fourth book.
The Secret Service corners Heather because the First Lady has figured out that Heather is
a spy who is trying to destroy her evil husband. Heather can run or fight, both of options
will likely end in her demise. I wanted her to fight her way out, but this tough character
had a better idea. In what could be her final moments, she uses her high-tech gadgets to
alert HQ to save Mike, her partner. Why? Because she cares for him. Too much.
Hold on tight to see what happens next.

What was your favorite scene to write?

Throughout the series, Agent Heather Slade and the president/dictator Blockwell have
dangerous run-ins, each one more serious than the last. In this scene, Heather has the
upperhand and it really felt good to put Blockwell in his place for a change. Hammer is at
HQ listening.

(Scene condensed)
President Blockwell seemed not to notice his children at all. His focus was on the woman
who did not belong in the picture.“Heather Slade. My men have been looking for you. It
is a surprise to find you in my home.”
She rose to her feet. “Looking for me? That is a surprise.Well, I won’t stay long.
My dad asked me to give you a message.”
“A message?”
“Yes.”
From the corner of her eye, she could see Helen’s head swinging from side to side
like she was watching a tennis match between her husband and her friend.
“How is the old man?” Blockwell asked, as he peeled his daughter off of his legs.
Helen stepped forward and snatched Rosie up in her arms. She snapped her fingers and
two women came and took the kids out of the room.
“Better. That infinity hospital was a bad place for him. He shouldn’t have been
there.”
“Huh. I thought it was the best place for him. A man with his illness and all that
money?” Blockwell clicked his tongue. “Not safe for him. Anyone could take advantage
of him.”
It was a struggle to not flash all of her hatred at him. This play required a steady
hand and an even disposition.But it was difficult when she wanted to hit him so hard that
he never got back up.
“Thank you for asking about him. He will be better now. Speaking of the money
leads me to his message. My dad doesn’t have money anymore.”
“What do you mean?” Blockwell said.
“Well. It’s mine now. All of it. Billions, with an ‘s,’ as in multiples. Oh, and it is
not in the Union anymore, either. It’s in overseas accounts.”
Blockwell narrowed his eyes. “Is that the message?”
“No. There’s more. Dad claims he has knowledge of something really important
that those countries overseas have been trying to uncover. He did not tell me what the
information was.”
Blockwell’s face turned purplish-red. His fists were clenched.
She pressed on. “He says this knowledge is on several computer devices locked
away in many safe deposit boxes in banks overseas. His message is this—‘If his
daughter’—she pointed at herself—‘is harmed in any way, or if he, Martin Slade, is
bothered anymore, the computer devices with the knowledge will be delivered to several
governments all at once.’ His words: ‘It will be the end.’”
Blockwell slammed his right fist into the wall behind him.
“Bradley!” Helen yelled.
Heather didn’t flinch. “President Blockwell, do you understand my father’s
message?”
He faced her. “You mean, blackmail?”
Sure, she meant blackmail. “Do we have a deal?”
Blockwell didn’t answer.
She put her hand on her hip. “Look at this another way. I am now the richest
woman in the Union. I am also friends with your wife. Why not let the two of us use this
money to make the country a better place? Helen and I could really make it work for
good.”
“That is a wonderful idea!” Helen jumped in.
“Shut up, Helen. You brought this witch into our home—”
That did it. Nothing irritated Heather more than when a man tried to silence a
woman’s voice. She stepped closer and tipped her head up to look the monster in his eye.
“If you want me to contribute any more money to your campaigns or projects in the
future, you will be good to your wife. No more disrespecting Helen. Do you now agree to
the deal?”
Blockwell sat heavily in one of the children’s chairs and put his face in his hands.
“You swear you don’t know what your father put on the devices?”
She gave him her most innocent expression. “Nope. He told me it was safer for
me if I didn’t know anything.”
He exhaled. “Fine. You have your deal.”
Helen smiled. “Thank you, Bradley.”
“We’ll discuss this later,” he said to Helen, then he turned his full anger on
Heather and bellowed. “Now, get the hell out of my house!”
Gladly. She gave Helen a tiny wave as she walked past her and through the door,
hoping all the while that no one shot her in the back or head on the way out. She got in
her McLaren and pulled up to the front gates. It was a welcome surprise when they
opened. Flooring it, she put as much distance between herself and the New White House
as quickly as she could. The trees and signs whizzed by in a blur.
Her purse started buzzing again. She reached in, found her earbuds, and put them
in.
“Hell, Slade. That was beyond ballsy,” Hammer’s voice came through her hearing
device. “Certifiable. But it might have worked. We are assessing all channels. No orders
on your capture yet. You were incredible.” His voice was soft, as if he really was proud
of her. It touched her. “Seriously, not many assets would have done what you just did. He
could have killed you a thousand ways. You owned that asswipe. I can’t tell you how
impressed I am.”
“Thanks, Hammer. It made me feel better knowing that you were listening.”
“I was. Did you make up all that stuff? The money over-seas? Devices in safety
deposit boxes?”
“The devices, yes. But the money really is safely out of the country. I moved it.
He put it all in my name. Well, in Heather Slade’s name. No one can know about the
money, Hammer. I’ll become a target.”
“Copy that. I agree. It will be our secret.”
“Well, yours, mine, and Blockwell’s. That’s the weirdest threesome in the history
of the world.”
“Dammit to hell, I wouldn’t share you with that guy.” And then, much softer, he
said, “Or any guy…”

What was the most difficult scene to write?

The ending is explosive with a lot at stake and a lot to lose. Here is a condensed snippet:

“Sorry, Heather.” She stopped short when he spoke to her in her earbud. “I never
meant to hurt you. I hope you forgive me one day.”
The way he said that sounded like “goodbye.” The small device [he] put in his
pocket… Was it a detonator? If so…
She quickly looked around her. Am I too close? She raced to the nearest tree,
wrapped her arms around the thick trunk, and pressed her face into the rough bark.
The world blew apart.
The explosion sent her flying through the air backward.
Time came at her in splices.
She landed on her back on the neighbor’s fake turf, hitting so violently that the air
in her lungs shot out of her mouth like a cannon. Her head smacked down a split second
later. She couldn’t breathe. Her ears didn’t ring, they screeched. Shooting stars lit up her
vision. It all felt familiar. Her body remembered, even if her brain couldn’t. Was this
what she’d experienced on the battlefield in Boulder? Her mind tried to recall and piece
her past together.
A sudden and excruciating pain started at the back of her head where the kill
device had been implanted. She’d banged it with such a violent, hard force. Had she
broken it? Was it shattered inside her head?
Oh, God!
Bolts of lightning shot through her, setting her gray matter on fire.
God, oh God, oh God!
It felt like her brain was being electrocuted. Squeezing her eyes shut, she
screamed over and over again.
“I’m here. I’m here,” a voice said.
She opened her eyes to see Mike leaning over her as she was dying. That was
familiar too.
“Leave…me. Run!” she ground out through the pain.
Mercifully, everything went black.

XXX

Miguel was on the street, running away from the delivery truck and toward
Heather, when the bomb went off. He wasn’t knocked off his feet, but his legs stopped
working properly.He stumbled along like he used to do back home when he and
Francisco celebrated Goal Noche in their favorite cantina.There was a strange, high-
pitched hum in his ears. Glass was everywhere. Windows from the neighboring houses
had blown out. People began pouring out onto the street to see what had happened.
Miguel needed to move fast before he and Heather were caught.
He put a hand on the fence between the yard and the street. A piece of it broke off
easily. He now had a clear view into the second yard where Heather was lying on her
back.
She began screaming as if she were being repeatedly stabbed.
He raced to her. “I’m here! I’m here!” Miguel yelled.
He touched her beautiful face. Shrapnel from the explosion was embedded in her
cheek. A trickle of blood ran from her ears. She opened her eyes and stopped screaming.
Something like recognition registered in her expression.
“Leave…me. Run!” Her order was a wound to his soul.
And impossible. He would never leave her behind.
“Querida,” he said softly. “I’m going to get you out of here.”
Her eyes rolled back. She was unconscious.
“Heather?”
He felt her neck for a pulse. Nada.
“Madre de Dios! Heather! Wake up!” Miguel shook her.
She was limp in his arms.
Gently, he moved her head into the proper position, pinched her nostrils closed,
and gave her two breaths. He checked for a pulse again. Still nothing. He began the chest
compressions.
“Come on, come on!”
Two more breaths.
“Shit, Slade!” Hammer said behind him. “Keep going, Robles. I’ll get the kit.”
Miguel had the sensation that Hammer had left. His focus was on her as he kept
doing CPR. Sweat dripped down his cheeks.
During the compressions, he spoke to her. “Come back… Can’t lose you… I need
you…”

Would you say this book showcases your writing style or is it a departure for you?

This series has been a bit of a departure from my other Romantic Suspense and
Contemporary Romance books. I am enjoying the opportunity to stretch my writing skills
in a slightly different genre.
The entire series is set in a dangerous future, which makes it dystopian. The team of spies
can be caught and killed at any moment while they are running missions to save innocent
lives and stop the enemy. The lead is kick-butt Heather Slade, an agent who lives
undercover with her enemies while organizing plays against them. It is all high-stakes
espionage.
The books in the series are thrillers, not romance, because there is no happy ending in the
first books. We are getting close in a budding romance in The Asset, but we’re not at the
HEA yet. (I will let you in on a secret: they will have happiness in the end. Shhh, don’t
tell anyone.)
In this book, the conflict keeps cranking and the twists keep twisting. While each book
has a mission to be completed and resolved, there are several mysteries and intriguing
elements threaded throughout all of the books that will keep readers guessing.
This series does showcase two things:
1) I love writing close-knit teams.
2) I believe that love will conquer evil in the end

What do you want people to take away from reading this book?

Some of the take-aways I hope readers feel when reading this book are:
a) People are sometimes not who we think they are.
b) More people want justice, freedom, and healing than we realize.
c) Love will always win in the end.

What are you currently working on? What other releases do you have planned?

The Extraction releases in February 2026. This is the 5th book in the series and the one
where readers will get most of their questions answered. It is a heart-stopper that might
require a tissue or two.

Thanks for blogging at HJ!

Giveaway: An ebook copy of THE ASSET + one additional Tule ebook of the winner’s choice

To enter Giveaway: Please leave a comment below and share this post on Twitter

Q: When I was a kid I grew up watching the old Mission Impossible shows on tv which made me want to write mission-driven stories. It is fun for me to have Heather change her outfits and personalities for every mission in order to stay deeply undercover. Do you have a favorite spy series or show?

Excerpt from The Asset:

The First Lady of the Patriot Union leaned across the table and whispered, “Are you a spy, Heather?”

“What?” Heather squeaked like a rabbit who knew what was coming for her. Her gaze flicked up to the two armed Secret Service agents who were watching Helen with curiosity, as if waiting for her to give the word to attack. The wolves had found her scent. The rabbit had two choices—run or fight. Neither option would be successful. The guards were twitching to reach for their weapons.

“I think you heard me.” Helen’s voice, low and soft, sliced through the air like a razor.

Heather’s mind was spinning with terror. She struggled to form words, any words, to get her out of this mess.

“You are the first person I’ve felt comfortable with in a long, long time,” Helen went on. “I liked you. I thought we could become friends one day. Was it all a ploy?” Helen’s eyes were wet, her cheeks pale. She had the look of a woman who’d just gotten her heart broken.

God, this was bad. Really bad.

“We are friends, Helen.” Heather wrestled to keep her body still, her voice steady. Everything in her screamed, Run!

“The truth, please. I’m not stupid.”

“Of course not. You’re one of the smartest people I know.” Helen was, in fact, the first person to figure out Heather’s cover. “That’s one of the reasons we are so comfortable together, Helen. Why we became friends so fast. I find it hard to trust people too. I respect your opinions, your ideas, but this is…startling. I don’t know what’s upset you so.” The lie flowed from her lips, but her heart pounded hard. The room started spinning so fast that she gripped the table for grounding.

Helen exhaled through her nostrils, apparently nonplussed by Heather’s rambling speech.

“Are you working with the Mexicans?” Helen asked.

“Me? I’m not a Mexican.”

Helen shook her head, not happy with the way Heather had parsed her words. Heather wasn’t happy, either. Why was she fumbling this? Today, of all days, she needed to be able to pull off the play. Her life depended on it.

“You know my story,” Heather tried again. “I was born and raised in the United States before the Second Civil War. My father was the largest donor to your husband’s campaign. How could you think that I would be anything other than who I am?” She had to really force that statement, for she didn’t really know who she was.

“But you are working with the Mexicans.” It was a statement, not a question.

A tiny thought went off in Heather’s frantic mind.

“Ah, I see where the confusion came from.” She forced her lips to rise and hoped it resembled a smile. “I hired a few of them for Tiffany’s party, yes. You are right about that. Tiffany had allowed it, and those at the party seemed happy enough to eat the food the Mexicans cooked. That’s all it was, Helen. Nothing more.”

“I don’t believe you,” Helen said. “A Mexican man rescued you during the emergency at the party. You are much closer than you let on. And you lied to Tiffany. It is not ‘nothing more.’”

How am I going to get out of this? A tornado of emotions swirled inside her. Think! Heather silently screamed at herself. She had to say something. Do something. A trickle of sweat ran down her back. If she didn’t get herself out of this, she would be murdered in broad daylight and then they’d go after Mike. God, Mike. She had to get a message to him. He needed to escape the Patriot Union immediately.

Heather glanced over her shoulder toward the Secret Service agents blocking her exit route. Crap. They were both looking at her now with something harder than curiosity lining their features. One guard had his hand on his weapon, as if he sensed something was about to go down. Could they hear what was being said?

“Run, and they’ll shoot you,” Helen’s whisper was a strange mix of brutal honesty and heart-wrenching sadness. “One word from me and they will take you away.” She didn’t have to say where they would take her. Heather already knew.

Heather stared at Helen. Silence floated in the air while Heather turned her options over and over. Every one came up with the end of Heather Slade. The Patriots would kill her, horribly, and so would HQ. The end, the end, the end. She tried to envision a peaceful place to focus on in the last moments. The only vision that popped into Heather’s head? Mike’s beautiful face. His warm-chocolate eyes, his smile. She imagined what he would tell her if he were sitting beside her, shoulder to shoulder, his strength flowing through her.

Querida. You’ve got this. You are Heather Slade.

“I am Heather Slade,” she said out loud, forcing herself to become something other than a terrified asset swinging on the end of a noose. Straightening her back, she psychologically tugged back into place the persona of a rich, spoiled daughter of a billionaire, the woman she was supposed to be playing. Heather’s exhale exploded through her lips in a sound that could have been an indignant huff.

“Helen, enough is enough. I have tried to be patient with you, but this is too much.” Slowly, she wiped her damp hands on her chiffon pants under the table. “What you are saying is ridiculous. You know that, right? Did you hit your head? Oh, wait. Are you trying to be funny? Is this a joke?” Surprisingly, her voice was steady. Her heartbeat, however, still thundered in her chest. And no one was laughing.

“Sí, that’s it. Bueno. You are fine. Keep it up,” Imaginary Mike whispered in her head.

Okay, yes, Heather was insulting the First Lady. Yes, it would probably make her lose any further connection with the woman, which would irritate Heather’s handler, but the goal was to walk out of the bar without getting a bullet between her eyes. Frantically thinking on her feet, she was grasping for anything that might keep her alive.

Helen’s eyes widened. “It’s not a joke. I’m serious.”

“That can’t be the case. You know me,” Heather said.

“What I know is that you did not go home with Lt. Col. Gregory Henkle. I could have the Secret Service pull the cameras to figure out who the Mexican man is. If he’s a spy, you are in big trouble, Heather.”

“No. Don’t do that. Why bother that poor man just because he is a Mexican who worked for me? I have another way to sort this out.”

“How?” Helen asked.

Heather swallowed hard. Helen had given her one last play, one chance. It was a long shot. A really long shot that might boomerang back and explode in her face.

Heather reached for her phone and said to it, “Call No Medals.”

As the phone dialed his number, she said a quick, silent prayer. If this didn’t work…

Gregory Henkle answered. “Heather?”

She focused on making her voice sound sexy, or at the very least, calm. “Hey, handsome. Are you busy? I have a huge favor to ask.”

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” he asked. Apparently, her voice hadn’t made it to calm.

“You know me, never a dull moment.” She tried to chuckle, but the sound came off weird and disjointed.

His voice was low. “Where are you? Can you talk?”

“I’m in a bit of a strange situation at Jimmy’s Bar. I need you.”

“What sort of situation?”

“I’m with the First Lady.” Heather lifted her gaze to Helen. The woman was watching her intently, studying her every move.

“You are with Helen Blockwell? Right now? Is her security detail there?”

“Yes. Secret Service is here with us. Don’t worry. They are protecting the entrances so that no one can come in.” Or leave. She hoped she was still conveying normalcy when everything inside her was on fire. “Helen and I seem to be having a disagreement that involves us.”

“Us?”

“Yes, I’m sorry, love. I know that we wanted to keep our relationship quiet, but it seems that people have found out.” Of course they did, because Gregory had been spreading the lie far and wide that they’d slept together. She still didn’t understand his motives, but currently they were in her favor. “Helen has some questions about the night we, well, you know.” She tried to act coy, but honestly, she didn’t know how. What story had he developed?

“She doesn’t believe it?”

“Nope.” Helen was leaning close, as if trying to hear Gregory on the other end of the phone. “This misunderstanding could be really bad for me.”

“Shit,” he said softly. “I’ll be right there.”

“How long?” Her voice broke.

“I’m already driving. Five minutes.”

She nodded and ended the call. “He’s coming right over. Hopefully, he can explain things better than I’ve been able to.”

Or he’d come and tell the truth, and this would be her last five minutes. She had a bad feeling that Jimmy’s Bar would be the end of the road for the woman pretending to be Heather Slade.

“I’m heading to the restroom. Want to freshen up before he arrives,” Heather said, standing.

“One of the men will go with you.” Helen motioned to the Secret Service, and one of them stepped forward. “Make sure she doesn’t go out the window or run out the back.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the man said.

“This is ridiculous! I don’t need a bathroom escort.” Heather grabbed her purse. She had a few devices inside that she could use to alert HQ. If the next few minutes went to hell for her, the agency would have to take Mike underground quickly before the PDs grabbed him.

A guard stepped forward and snatched the purse out of her hand. “Leave that behind.”

Heather frowned. “Helen? I need it.”

“Let her take her purse,” Helen said.

“She could use her phone to call her people, ma’am.”

That was exactly what she intended to do. Heather needed to contact HQ and tell them to protect Mike. What do I do now? “Can I take my hairbrush and lipstick? My boyfriend is coming any minute now.”

“Not advisable,” the guard said, waiting for a response from Helen.

“Let her,” Helen said.

Heather reached into her purse and grabbed the two items as casually as she could. If the Secret Service inspected the brush, they might find the deadly dagger hidden inside the handle. She’d use the dagger if things went bad. The lipstick had a mini phone in it that she was going to use to notify HQ. If they found either one, it would prove Helen’s point.

“Ready?” she asked the guard. She didn’t wait for an answer. Spinning on her heel, she walked toward the restrooms. One of the men was quick to catch up and became the shadow she could not shake.

She assessed her surroundings. The corridor was narrow, with two restrooms on the left side. There was one door at the end of the corridor that seemed to lead to the kitchen. That might be the way to escape, if she could get past the guard.

Heather opened the door to the women’s restroom. “Wait outside.”

The guard didn’t say anything. He pushed past her into the women’s bathroom. He kicked open each stall door to verify that the toilets were empty. He looked under the sink and opened the lone cabinet in the room. The only items inside the cabinet were toilet paper, gallons of hand-sanitizing mist, and soap.

“Satisfied?” she asked.

He grunted and checked the window. It was far too small to squeeze through. It seemed that she would not be able to escape this room unless… Her gaze quickly jumped to the ceiling vents. Damn. They were too small as well.

“Hurry up,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir.” She saluted him and closed the door.

She didn’t have much time to make an escape plan. Quickly, she dialed up the “Kiss Me Red” lipstick and opened the mini screen inside.

She pressed the tiny button on the side of the stick that was nearly impossible to see with the naked eye. It was the direct dial to Agent Dispatch at HQ. In this case, she didn’t want any agents to come to her rescue. She needed an agent to be picked up. Heather didn’t use her fingertips to text on the tiny display. This system was set up to track her eye movements so that she only needed to look at the letters and symbols to transmit the message.

“Urgent agent retrieval. Get Miguel Robles underground.”

Her lipstick pulsed in her hand with HQ’s response. “Has Miguel Robles been compromised?”

Heather gasped. She didn’t expect them to ask that question. What could she say? If HQ believed that the Patriots were on to Mike, they might trigger his kill device. She’d been there, barely survived that, and wouldn’t curse anyone with such excruciating pain. Especially not Mike. Her hands were shaking so badly, she had trouble holding the lipstick.

“Has he been taken?” The dispatcher on the other end of the lipstick pressed for an answer.

She wished she knew who the person was who manned the Agent Dispatch desk. Could she trust them? No. At this moment, she only trusted herself and the burning anxiety to get Mike to safety.

Heather’s gaze moved across the mini keyboard to light up the letters. “I’ll explain later. Bring him in.”

“Reason required. It’s protocol. See your agent code manual, page 72.”

Protocol? When her partner’s life was on the line? She wanted to chuck the lipstick into the toilet.

Rapidly, she texted, “Have a team pick him up. Now!”

“Reason required. Protocol. Page 72.”

She bit her lip to keep from screaming her outrage.

“It’s an emergency!”

The agent dispatcher texted one final word. “Denied.”

She was livid. “Take your protocol and shove it up your—!”

“What did you say, Ms. Slade?” the Secret Service agent said, knocking on the other side of the bathroom door. She was so distraught that she’d forgotten he was out there. What was the matter with her?

“Nothing,” she said to the trained killer guarding her door. “Having a problem with the…” she glanced around the bathroom, “hand-sanitizing dryer.” She pressed the button and the machine hummed and expelled the warm, quick-drying mist. “It’s working now.”

“Hurry up in there,” he ordered.

She caught her reflection in the mirror. Her blue eyes narrowed and her Kiss Me Red lips lifted into an angry snarl. To the beautiful face that didn’t belong to her, she whispered, “Get it together.”

There was only one thing to do now.

She took the dagger out of her hairbrush. It was viciously sharp.

Her last official plan as an agent for HQ was to fight her way out and run like hell through the back of Jimmy’s Bar. She had no hope that her plan would work. None. Better to die in the line of fire than to be tortured by either Patriots or HQ’s kill device.

She didn’t want to kill anyone. Heather Slade had worked her butt off her entire short career to not be like the Patriots. But she was a trained killer, too, and would do what was necessary to protect other agents by not getting captured. Dying with her secrets intact was her only goal now.

Heather closed her fist around the handle of the dagger and prepared to aim high since the guard had a good seven inches of height on her. The blow would have to be fast and lethal. She’d take him out and then run through the kitchen to the alley. The other Secret Service agent would be obliged to come after her, shooting as he went. If she could get him into hand-to-hand combat, she’d have a better chance of neutralizing him too. And then she’d keep running.

It was the flimsiest plan she’d ever made, but time was running out, and she had to go with it.

Quietly, she crept to the door. Just as she lifted her foot to kick it open…

“Lt. Col. Gregory Henkle is here,” the guard called out.

Her pounding heart stuttered. She’d kill both guards out there if she had to, but Gregory? Could she kill No Medals?

She lowered her foot to the ground and hid the dagger back inside the hairbrush.

“Be right out,” she said.

And just like that, she flushed her flimsy plan down the virtual toilet.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Book Info:

Agent Heather Slade’s cover might be blown, but can she still operate in the shadows?

When HQ forces Heather to go dark for her safety, she fears her spy career and chance of finding her daughter are over. Then she receives an invitation to an über-exclusive foodie event hosted by her enemies. Is the party “a taste of the future” or a deadly con to poison enemies of the Union—like herself? To obtain food samples to test, she must leave her team behind and rely on Patriot Lt. Col. Henkle as her only protection on the dangerous mission.

Miguel Robles’s partner has fallen off the grid. He’s desperate to find Heather, fearing she’s done the unthinkable—gone on a mission without him. Risk levels skyrocket when the double agent they’ve been searching for shows up at Miguel’s office with coordinates for a secret POW camp that he and Heather nearly died to discover. Is this the proof needed to destroy Blockwell, or is it a trap?

It’s a race to stay ahead of HQ and the Patriots to find Heather and the secret camp.

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Meet the Author:

Kimberley Troutte is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author. She has been a Top 100 Amazon author and a Top 10 Romantic Suspense bestselling author for Amazon. Kimberley was a finalist in both the Vivian® and the RITA®–the highest awards for excellence in romance. She lives in Southern California with her husband, two sons, a wild cat, a large iguana, an old snake, and all the other creatures that hubby and boys rescue.

To learn more about her novels, please visit her at www.kimberleytroutte.com and sign up for the newsletter.
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