Moving Target (Target #3)

Moving Target (Target #3)

Marquita Valentine


To every Russian Spy/Assassin movie I watched as a kid and as an adult. Thanks for inspiring an entire series!

And to my husband, Matthew, who likes to encourage me to blow things up when I get stuck writing.


Some rules are meant to be broken…

Mercenary Dmitry Romanov makes a living transporting packages for wealthy clients. He lives by only two rules. One, don’t ask what’s in the package. Two, don’t open the package. Those rules have made him rich and kept him alive. Now Dmitry is ready to retire, but when a former colleague asks for a favor and won’t take no for an answer, he agrees to one last transport.

Everything is going to plan until this package starts moving…. and he breaks Rule number two.

Widow Chloe Riggs is finally ready to move on and follow the bucket list her husband made her while in the last stages of bone cancer. First up on the list, a European vacation she and her husband had always dreamed of taking. But while conquering number three on her list—dance with a stranger beneath the Eifel Tower--Chloe gets more than she bargains for and ends up in the trunk of a car, gagged and bound.

Unfortunately, Chloe’s only means of escape is with the man who’s driving her straight into danger.

Dmitry has his hands full with the feisty American, not only is she testing his resolve to stay professional, she’s making him crave her hot body. Soon, the two give into their desires and blaze a hot path all over Europe while Dmitry tries to figure a way out of his predicament.

Can Chloe convince Dmitry to break all the rules and not only save her, but their future together? Or will his loyalty to the Bratva doom them both?



He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen, dressed in what has to be a tailor-made suit, which means one of two things. He’s gay… or taken.

I frown.

“Not gay,” Mario murmurs in my ear.

I glance at my best friend. “Are you sure?”

“Fairly certain,” he says in an even tone.

“Fairly certain? I can’t go with fairly certain,” I protest, even as Mario propels me in the guy’s direction. “Is your gaydar off or something?”

“I don’t have gaydar.”

“You should,” I insist. “You’re my SGBF.”

“What the hell is that?”

“Sassy gay best friend?” Mario and I have been friends since freshman year of college when he saved me from asshole frat boys trying to cop a feel while I was serving their table. Since Mario is six five and built like a brick shit house, they had no problem listening to his back-the-fuck-off suggestion.

He mutters something under his breath, turning me around as he does. “Texans aren’t sassy. We’re men, even when we’re into men. Besides, I like women, too.”

I almost snort, and then sober—something that’s a little hard to do considering how much I’ve already had to drink. Okay, I haven’t had that much to drink. Mario’s too protective of me. “What if he’s the one?”

“Then he’s the one.”

I dig my heels in, the four-inch stilettos Mario said would land me a man for my birthday, scraping them against the concrete floor. “But what about our pact? You know—when we’re thirty and still single because everyone sucks but us, we’ll get married and adopt kids?” Thirty is seven years away, but I’m pretty sure with my luck, Mario will be happily married on a dude ranch while I’ll be surrounded by cats that hate me.

“In the meantime, you need more life experiences. You need to complete number-one on your bucket list.”

Like lose my virginity for real. And by for real, I mean not by a doped-up hookup in which my freshman-year boyfriend fell asleep in the middle of sex because he’d taken too much of his allergy meds… Talk about a confidence killer.

“You could be the one to give it to me.”

He smiles, a nice tilt of his lips that does absolutely nothing for me. “Little friend, I love you, but like a sister. That guy has been eyeing you like a dog after a steak.”

“BGS could’ve been eyeing you.”

“Beautiful Guy in a Suit?” he asks.

I nod, but Mario slowly shakes his head. “Not a chance. Besides, I got my eye on a redhead with a tight ass and a short skirt.”

“You’re so greedy.” We’ve talked about Mario’s confidence in who he is. How he doesn’t give a damn about what anyone thinks of his love life. Most of the time, he’s into men, but on rare occasions, like tonight, he’s into women, too.

“Nope. Just feeling a bit adventurous tonight—so should you.” Whirling me around, he gives me a pat on the bottom. “Go get ‘em, sugar.”

Throwing my shoulders back, I strut my stuff straight to the beautiful guy in the suit. Unlike every rom-com I’ve ever seen or read, I don’t trip. I don’t fall into him.

I’m a graceful swan. A lady treading the boards so good that my momma would be proud I actually learned something during cotillion classes.

A guy rams into me, nearly spilling his beer all over my pretty dress. Instead, it hits my arm, running down it like warm water. “Son of a bitch,” I shout, and then turn fifty shades of red. My momma would kill me if she ever heard me cuss like that.

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