Absolution

by Kaylea Cross

  ABSOLUTION

  Suspense Series

  KAYLEA CROSS

  Copyright © 2010 & 2014

  by Kaylea Cross

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  Cover Art by

  Sweet ‘N Spicy Designs

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  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the author.

  ISBN: 9781928044017

  DEDICATION

  To my boys and hubby—still love you to infinity (and beyond!). And for Katie, whose support and critical eye make me a better writer. Thanks, hon!

  And to anyone who’s ever faced their own battle with cancer, or watched a loved one during their fight.

  Suck it, cancer.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  This is the fifth and final book of my Suspense series, and finally we get to see Luke and Emily’s story! As you’ve probably guessed by now, Luke is my favorite character of the series, so I couldn’t wait to write this story. It literally poured out of me and it’s my all-time favorite book I’ve ever written. I hope it will be one of yours as well.

  Happy reading!

  Kaylea Cross

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  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

  Complete Booklist

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Charleston, SC

  Late November

  Emily Hutchinson lifted a hand and tucked the last few strands of her thick brown hair beneath the plastic cap the nurse had given her. The mirror above the sink of her private hospital room showed how pale her skin was. Her green eyes seemed too big for her face, and were full of shadows almost as dark as the ones beneath them. The thin gown she wore fell shapelessly around her thin frame. The two ties at the back let in a cold draft that went up her spine like the rake of icy fingertips.

  Her day of reckoning had come.

  “Emily?” the nurse called from outside the bathroom. “Are you nearly finished?

  She took a deep breath, staring at her reflection and the fear in her eyes. She’d already lost her reproductive organs two years ago. After this, would she even still be a woman? “One second.” When she was sure she had her composure, she stepped out of the bathroom.

  The nurse, Patti, gave her a sympathetic smile. “They’re ready for you.”

  Emily eyed the gurney that would take her down to the OR and fought back the wave of dread and grief swamping her. Stupid, to be this afraid now. She’d always known this day would come, as it had for her mother. And yet, with the moment of truth at hand, it felt like her veins were filled with ice water.

  When Patti held out an encouraging hand, Emily took it and climbed up onto the gurney, maneuvering her IV pole around to the side. Shifting to lie on her back, her limbs were leaden. But her mind screamed.

  “Your hands are freezing.” Patti added an extra blanket and tucked them around her before coming around to offer another smile. “Everything’s going to be fine. Jim’s the best.”

  Yes, he was. Emily had known the surgeon for more than a dozen years, and there was no one on earth she trusted more for this operation. Knowing he would be with her in the OR brought her some measure of reassurance, but what was coming afterward scared the living hell out of her. The thought of what would happen after the surgery coated her skin in a cold sweat.

  “Here we go,” said Patti. “You just rest while I take you downstairs.”

  “Sure.” At least her voice sounded normal. Calm, collected. As though she wasn’t embarking on the fight of her life. No, that wasn’t true. She’d begun that two years ago, only she hadn’t realized it at the time.

  The gurney’s rubber wheels squeaked and squealed on the linoleum floor as it traveled out of the room and into the garishly lit hallway. Behind their station desk, the nurses looked up from their work when she passed to smile at her.

  “See you when you get back,” one of them said. Emily raised a hand in reply, her throat so thick with unshed tears she thought she might choke on them. The terrible void of the unknown yawned before her. She wouldn’t know what Jim found until she woke up in recovery, and once she did, she wasn’t sure how she could face the rest of it. As terrible as the surgery was, this was the easy part, and she knew that all too well. From here out, things got much tougher.

  And sometimes, they became impossible.

  Forcing the sickening thought away, she closed her eyes and concentrated on taking slow, deep breaths to calm her nerves. A soft ding told her they’d reached the elevator, and the metal rails of the gurney clanged against the door on the way through.

  “Sorry about that,” said Patti.

  “It’s okay.”

  The doors closed with a dim swoosh, then the motor hummed as they descended. When it dinged again, she opened her eyes as the doors pulled apart, revealing her friend Anne waiting in the hall. She came straight over.

  “Hi, Em,” she said, taking one of her chilled hands.

  Emily squeezed back. “I thought you were away this week.”

  “Except for today. The rest of the week, I’m staying with a friend.” She winked. “What, you thought I’d let you go home alone with no one to take care of you? As if.”

  The tears Emily had fought burned through her resistance. Pressing her lips together, she put her other hand over her eyes.

  “It’s going to be okay, Em.” Anne’s grip was warm and firm. “Nothing’s going to happen to you on my watch.”

  A soggy laugh escaped. Anne was like that. Protective and fiercely loyal, even though they were only casual friends. “Thank you.” It seemed completely inadequate, but it was all she had.

  “Don’t mention it.” Anne glanced up. “Ah, here comes Doc Hollywood now.”

  Emily turned her head as Jim strolled up, tall and handsome in his pale blue scrubs, his clear, gray eyes full of warmth when he smiled at her. “How are you feeling, Emily?” He took Anne’s place and helped her push the gurney through the double doors of the OR.

  “Fine. Just want this to be over.”

  “Understood.” He guided the gurney next to the operating table so the nurses could transfer her. “We’ve got the A-team assembled for you here this morning,” he said, as the nurse tugged his mask into place and tied it behind his head. His wedding band flashed on the chain around his neck—he always wore it like that while in surgery—in the bright lights, and for a second her eyes stayed there.

  Jim and his wife had been happily married for over thirty years. The same as she and Luke would have been if he’d stayed.

  She cleared her throat. “I appreciate it.”

  All too soon the anesthesiologist bent over her, his brown eyes looking into hers from behind rimless glasses. “Want me to give you a sedative?”

/>   “No, thank you.”

  “Okay, everyone,” Jim announced, all scrubbed in and gloved up as he stepped in next to her. “Emily’s one of our own. Let’s make sure she gets our best.”

  The team assembled around her and her calm facade began to crumble. Tremors started in her fingers and spread to her hands, then down her arms and neck, until they wracked her whole body. Her teeth chattered. Jim took her free hand when the anesthesiologist pushed the cocktail of drugs into her veins. It burned all the way up her arm, each centimeter of progress a separate torture as it traveled toward her heart. She sucked in a deep breath and fought back a grimace, but failed.

  “Almost done,” Jim said, holding her fingers tight in his. Someone placed a mask over her face and she pulled in a couple of breaths. An awful pressure squeezed her head as the anesthetic took hold, making it feel like her head was being crushed in a vise.

  A frisson of panic took root and she shook her head sharply, her body fighting all of it despite her attempt to stay calm.

  “Easy, Emily.” Jim maintained the steady pressure on her hand and kept talking to her in his low, calm voice. “Don’t fight it, just let go. We’re going to take real good care of you.”

  Her eyelids fluttered as the drugs finally did their work. She knew they would do everything they could for her. Anne would stay with her for a few days when she got sent home. But after that...she was on her own.

  ****

  Tribal region of Afghanistan

  Next Day

  “Sir? Someone is on the satellite phone for you.” Releasing his grip on the loaded pistol beneath his lumpy pillow, Farouk Ahmed Tehrazzi peeled his heavy lids apart and studied the man who had taken him in. Hazel eyes regarded him from the doorway of the crude bedroom the man and his wife had vacated for his use.

  “Thank you. I’ll take the call.” He slid his hand out from beneath the pillow.

  His heart pounded with anticipation. The rush of excitement helped to dull the exquisite agony in his belly as he sat up. The square of gauze taped over his new surgical incision was stained with blood. He’d popped two of the staples holding the wound together during his frantic escape over the Afghan border.

  He took the phone from his host with a grateful nod and the man left. Tehrazzi brought the handset to his ear, conscious of the debilitating weakness in his muscles. His whole body hurt from the fever—his immune system’s way of battling the peritonitis caused by his bodyguard’s knife.

  “Hello,” he said in Pashto.

  “It’s me,” a male voice replied in English.

  His hand clenched tighter around the phone. Abdu. His eyes and ears until he got back on his feet. “What have you learned?”

  “I have bad news, I’m afraid.”

  Tehrazzi’s heart gave a sickening throb. “Tell me.”

  “The operation failed.”

  He closed his weary eyes. “He is still alive?”

  “Yes. Ahmed died attempting to kill Doctor Adams. No one followed up on Hutchinson.”

  His jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached. Doctor Adams was the least of his concern now. His teacher was all that mattered. “What happened?”

  “Security was too tight at the hospital. Communication broke down amid the confusion with Ahmed’s death.”

  “Where is he?”

  “The hospital released Hutchinson this morning, but I can’t find out if he’s left Vancouver yet.”

  Of course he’d left. His teacher would never stay in the same place, especially when he’d been targeted there. “What about his wife?”

  “His wife? I thought they were divorced.”

  Tehrazzi suppressed a growl of irritation. That was irrelevant. She would be easier to find, vulnerable. And for all the years they’d spent apart, his teacher still cared deeply about her. That wouldn’t have changed, and he still wore the precious medallion she’d given him. Tehrazzi knew him too well to believe otherwise. Losing her would eviscerate him, even now. “Find out where they both are.”

  “I’ll look into it and get back to you.”

  “Do that.”

  Tehrazzi hung up and laid back against his damp pillow. Perhaps he’d been thinking about this the wrong way. Maybe he should focus on the wife. He’d targeted other women in his teacher’s circle because it guaranteed his teacher would respond personally. And every time it had worked.

  He shifted on the thin straw mattress. Planning an operation like that stateside would be difficult. The Vancouver debacle proved how unreliable the men he’d hired were. For this to work, Tehrazzi had to be directly involved. And when the end came, he wanted to be the one facing off against his teacher. Allah willing, he would prevail.

  The rough wool blanket scratched and hurt his fevered skin, but at least it was warm. Winter closed in on the mountains. In a few weeks the snows would make travel all but impossible. And his body...he wasn’t ready to take this operation on yet. Much as it killed him, he had to wait until he was stronger. But what could he do in the meantime besides plan his next move?

  His restless gaze fell on the pack he’d placed next to his bed. The book was in it. Stained and worn, its binding falling apart, he still carried it with him. For over twenty years he’d kept it as a reminder.

  A frown creased his forehead. Christmas was only a few weeks away. Perhaps it was time to let go of his memento.

  His hand shook when he reached for the pack and dragged it over, biting down on his lips to keep from crying out as his wound pulled. Reaching inside, he took the book out and studied the tattered cover in the dimness. He rubbed his thumb across the faded title. A barrage of conflicting emotions flooded him. Grief. Bitterness. Rage. And above it all, an aching, terrible loneliness.

  Releasing a deep, slow breath, he laid it on his lap and called out for his host. The man appeared a moment later.

  “I wondered if I might impose upon you to take a package into Kabul and mail it for me.”

  “Of course, I’d be honored to.”

  When he left, Tehrazzi stared down at the paperback cradled in his hands. This would be a Christmas gift his teacher would never forget.

  Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is a mystery. And today? Today is a gift.

  That is why we call it the present.

  —Babatunde Olatunji

  Chapter One

  Baton Rouge, LA

  Christmas Day

  The waiting made him edgy as hell.

  Luke Hutchinson eyed his silent cell phone lying on the coffee table next to his whirring laptop and loaded SIG Sauer, and willed it to ring. He hated the waiting almost as much as the dread he couldn’t shake. In the quiet of the room all his senses were on alert, anticipating...something.

  All thanks to the tattered paperback novel he’d found on his front porch when he’d come back from his morning run. One look at the brown paper wrapping and his heart had gone into overdrive. Nobody sent him Christmas gifts anymore. But this was no ordinary gift.

  It was a promise.

  He stared down at the faded title and thought of the day he’d bought it for his young friend. It’d been a piss-poor substitute for his physical presence, but a gesture to show he cared, meant to help Farouk improve his English because Luke could no longer be there to teach him.

  He swallowed a bitter laugh. Looking back, how had he not seen what was coming?

  The title taunted him. To Kill a Mockingbird. The significance of the book worked on so many levels, and made his stomach clench tight as a fist. He knew exactly what it meant.

  The student was finally coming after the teacher. Only Luke didn’t know when that fateful meeting would happen. Or where.

  A shadow moved outside the French doors that led onto the back deck. A quick flash of darkness.

  Hackles rising, he shut the laptop to extinguish its lit screen, snatched up the gun and crept along the wall toward the doors, staying low and out of sight. In the kitchen, pale moonlight shone through the rectangular panes of glass, reflecting on t
he hardwood floor. The refrigerator hummed quietly. Nothing else stirred.

  Pausing, he waited there in the darkness for a few minutes. The chances of someone sneaking up and catching him unawares were almost nil, but he was going to check things out regardless.

  When nothing else disturbed the silence or caught his attention, Luke edged to the French doors. He threw one open and burst through it onto the deck, pistol aimed and ready. A cold breeze blew over his face and rustled the branches of the pecan trees edging the yard. The half moon threw its silver rays onto the grass and led his gaze to the dock that stretched out into the lake. Not a ripple disturbed the clear surface, and he didn’t detect the sound of a motor. He relaxed his stance. Very few people had the ability to take him on, and fewer still worried him.

  But Farouk Tehrazzi was more than capable of keeping Luke awake at night. The bastard had already come close to killing him several times.

  Satisfied he was still alone on his property, Luke slipped back inside and rearmed his custom security system. He didn’t sleep much so it wasn’t unusual for him to be awake at this hour, but all night he’d had a gut deep certainty of impending doom. Something was wrong, he could feel it. After serving so many years in the shadowy realm of CIA counterterrorism operations, he knew enough to trust his instincts. And they screamed that the monster he’d created was on the move again. The “gift” he’d received merely confirmed it.

  The call from his boss back at Langley that morning verified they’d lost their only helpful lead on Tehrazzi when he’d crossed over the Afghani border from Pakistan. Once across, he would settle amongst the Pashtun villages dotting the high mountain peaks of the Hindu Kush.

  Luke ran a hand through his shaggy hair, his palm brushing over the newly healed craniotomy site at the base of his skull. That inconvenient surgery had kept him sidelined while Tehrazzi made his flight into the mountains of Afghanistan. Now, Luke was more than ready to get over there and finish what he’d started all those years ago during the Russian-Afghan war in the name of defending democracy for the CIA.

  If only the Agency would let him get back to doing what he did best instead of gumming up the whole operation with enough red tape to gift wrap the Statue of Liberty. First it’d been because they wouldn’t give him medical clearance to go into the field. Once he’d cleared that hurdle, it was because they hadn’t signed off on the team he wanted. A former Green Beret named Davis was still over in A-stan working his magic, infiltrating the tiny villages and getting cozy with the warlords to garner new intelligence. Right now, that was the only part Luke felt good about. If anyone could find out what Tehrazzi was up to, it was Davis. He was the best at counter insurgency that Luke had ever seen during his career in Special Ops.