by Kaylea Cross
She zipped up the leather pocket concealing her weapon, secured the backpack’s belt across her waist and straddled the motorbike’s seat. It wasn’t until she was a few blocks away, heading west that she realized her mistake.
Her treasures. She’d forgotten them in the hiding spot inside the apartment.
Shit. How could she have been so careless? She’d never made this kind of sloppy mistake before.
She pulled over to the side of the road at the next intersection, conflicting urges warring inside her. Stay or go? Flee to safety and the chance to fight another day, or risk going back to get her most treasured possessions?
A cold, hard weight formed in her chest. So cold it burned.
The Valkyrie trainers and powers-that-be had done everything at their command to erase her past. Her memories. Her personality.
To erase whoever she’d been before and leave a reprogrammed assassin in its place.
For the most part, they’d succeeded. She had only a handful of memories from her childhood, little more than confusing snapshots that made no sense. But no one involved with the program had realized that she’d always maintained a part of her own identity. A part they couldn’t force things upon or take away from her, no matter what they’d done to make it otherwise.
The things she’d left behind in the apartment were merely a handful of things, meaningless to anyone else. But they were all she had left from a life she didn’t remember, taken from a top-secret file she’d found in her last handler’s house the night he’d killed himself.
That night she’d lost her only link to the only human being who had ever truly given a shit about her, and inadvertently gained a link to something vastly more precious. Pieces that linked her to fragmented memories long forgotten. Pieces of a puzzle she was working every day to put together.
Who was she, really? Who had she been? What had happened to her family?
Stay or go?
She’d had a family once. She’d belonged to someone. To people who had loved her, before they’d been taken away. Before she’d been taken away and forced to forget them. Forced to turn into the woman she was now. A weapon those same people had used and then tried to discard.
Except everything that had happened was still there, lurking deep inside her memory in a shadowy place she was only beginning to access. A puzzle waiting to be solved. Crying out for resolution. One she was desperate to find.
Amber pursed her lips and pulled into traffic, decision made. She took the next right and doubled back the way she’d come using side streets, ready to accept the risks and consequences that came with recovering her treasures at all cost.
The Valkyrie Program had already taken everything that had mattered to her. She’d be damned if it took this last piece from her too.
Chapter Nine
Show time.
“You ready to go?” Megan asked impatiently, sliding her pistol into the custom holster at the small of her back.
They’d just gotten word from Trinity about a possible target location to search here in Vienna, and after being cooped up in this condo all day with Tyler going over intel, she was anxious to get moving. Their suspect had proven difficult to find so far. Megan wanted to capture him or her so they could start getting some badly needed answers.
Tyler looked up at her in the midst of taking a spare magazine from his duffel, and the impact of his slate blue gaze hit her square in the chest. Calm. Alert. “Yep.”
“So let’s move.” She needed to get going, expend some of the pent up energy humming inside her and focus on something other than him.
That kiss this afternoon had been a terrible lapse in judgment on her part. Yeah, she’d enjoyed it, but how stupid could she have been? It gave Tyler the wrong idea completely, and worse, now she couldn’t seem to shut off her attraction to him.
Worse, it was like the kiss had intensified everything she’d been trying to keep locked down. Her body was edgy and frustrated around him, the sensation magnified a hundred times when he was nearby.
And since she was going to be close to him for the foreseeable future, that didn’t bode well.
She couldn’t let it dampen her focus. Couldn’t afford to let him distract her, even when they weren’t in op mode. Problem was, he seemed determined to deny her the space she needed to make that happen.
She leaned against the wall in the entryway and waited for him to kit up, folding her arms to keep from picking at her cuticles any more. Most of her fingers were picked raw and bleeding in spots. Not unusual when she got keyed up, but he made it worse.
“Trinity’s monitoring us on the same frequency as before,” she said, sliding in her earpiece.
Tyler eyed her for a second, his gaze stirring heat in its wake as it roamed over the snug black pants and formfitting, long-sleeve T-shirt she wore. “How many mags have you got on you?”
“Three.” One in her weapon and two extras, along with her blade, taser and tools. Her standard loadout.
A wry smile tugged at one side of his mouth. “Okay, then. If we’re gonna break local weapons laws, go big or go home, right?” He grabbed two more mags from his duffel and slid them into various pockets in his cargo pants, drawing her attention to the well-defined musculature of his arms and torso.
He confused her. Tempted her in ways that surprised her, and she couldn’t figure him out. No other man had shaken her resolve the way he did.
What was his end game? Why had he agreed to work with her on this in the first place? If it was because of guilt due to what had happened in SERE school, then he could just get over himself because she was a lot stronger and more capable than he seemed to think. She hoped she got the chance to prove it to him on this op.
Because I care about you.
That was insane. And it pissed her off that her heart had leaped when he’d said it. She was naturally suspicious at the best of times. Had he said it to make her lower her guard? To get into her head for some reason?
He’s in your head right now, because you’re still thinking about him.
Bah. She scowled in annoyance and shifted position against the wall, anxious to get out of here and get to work.
Tyler slipped in his own earpiece and came toward her, more than six feet of sexy, masculine power made all the more intense by his quiet air of confidence. He reached past her for the doorknob, gave her a little smile as he opened it. “After you.”
Finally. She marched out into the hallway.
The anxious energy humming inside her began to transform into excitement as they drove to the small house on the edge of the historic district.
After circling the building once Tyler parked a block down the street. He would wait in a hidden spot that allowed him to see anyone coming and going from the front, while she installed a camera at the rear entrance to give them eyes there. Trinity was watching the east side of the building from another location.
“Comm check,” Megan murmured as she stepped onto the sidewalk. It was dark and quiet out. This was her favorite time to operate. Between two and three in the morning was the best time to perform ops. Most people were dead asleep or at least had their guards down, making her job a whole lot easier.
“Check,” Trinity and Tyler both answered.
He was only a few feet from her on the sidewalk, watching her expectantly. It seemed rude to just turn around and walk away without saying anything. “See you,” she blurted, feeling dumb for saying anything at all.
He nodded once, his eyes searching hers, making her think of the kiss again. “Be careful.”
She pivoted and strode away from him down the sidewalk past the stately, painted buildings, those words playing in her mind. No one had ever said that to her before. Not even her handlers. What if he was for real? What if he actually did care?
With a mental smack, she shouldered all that aside and went on alert as she made her way around the back of the house, staying out of the line of sight of the security cameras and motion-activated lights they�
�d found on the surrounding buildings in a scan earlier.
The two-story target house was supposedly empty but she was approaching it as if it wasn’t. If any surprises awaited her inside—human or otherwise—she was prepared to deal with them.
She tugged on her thin, skintight gloves. Then her small, specialized NVGs and switched them on and climbed up the old drain spout to secure the micro camera under the eaves trough.
After activating it, giving the others a sightline of the back alley and the buildings behind it, she climbed back down and slipped her tool pouch from her right hip pocket. Every tool was custom made, and each of them was as intimately familiar to her as her own body so that she could identify and use them while blindfolded. She didn’t need to look at them as she chose the first tool and got to work.
The locking mechanism on the back door didn’t appear to have any additional security measures on it. She picked it within thirty seconds and gingerly turned the deadbolt so that it made no sound. When nothing happened she eased the door open a fraction of an inch, her NVGs catching sight of the thin bit of wire strung from the knob to the other side of the doorframe.
She stopped and surveyed the entryway, checking for other things she would have to take care of before entering. There were no lasers, nothing high tech that she could see. As long as she could slip in without alerting anyone to her presence—or being injured in a booby-trap—she could be in and out in a matter of minutes.
Megan cut the wire and slipped inside. She found and disabled a motion device set into a light switch on the wall, and two cameras monitoring the hallway from different angles. A far different and more advanced setup than the previous locations. Maybe they were finally onto something solid.
She swept the lower floor and then moved to the second where the bedrooms were. No more devices, and better still, no one at home. Although that could mean they’d missed their chance to apprehend their suspect, because other than the extra security measures, it looked like the place was completely vacant.
No clothes, toiletries or personal items in any of the rooms. Both beds were perfectly made. No dishes in the sink or dishwasher. Fridge empty.
Next order of business was looking for a hiding spot or safe. She checked the second floor first. Finding nothing, she hurried downstairs to look on the main level. In the old boiler room at the back she moved aside a wooden panel on the far wall and grinned, her heart skipping a beat.
“Bingo,” she whispered.
“Sitrep,” Trinity murmured through the earpiece.
“Found a safe,” she whispered back, her voice barely audible in case there were cameras or recorders around that she hadn’t found. Doubtful, but not impossible.
“Can you open it?”
She withheld a snort. “Yeah.” About the size of a large microwave, the safe was big enough to hold important documents, cash or jewelry while still being the right size to hide easily.
It was old. At least a hundred years old if she guessed right, with three different combination locks, and made of cast iron if she wasn’t mistaken.
Ultra low tech, but that was the beauty of it. No one had these anymore. It would take her some time to crack it.
A wave of anticipation swept through her. Oh, God, she loved a challenge. And it had been way too long since she’d had one.
“Stand by.” Crouching in front of it, she pushed her NVGs up onto her head and slipped her penlight from a pocket in her pants. Holding it in her teeth, she studied her opponent. Three combination dials and nothing else. No scanners, no biometrics.
Sweet. Kicking it old school.
She pulled out more tools and got to work, closing her eyes to hear the clicks better. One of her best skills was identifying exactly when the tumblers clicked into position, and doing it with her eyes open was a distraction.
First seven-digit combo didn’t take long at all. She repeated the sequence in her head, memorizing it for later. The second combo had nine digits and took a few minutes longer.
The third dial was different. Tiny. With multiple turns required to find each number. The sound was different too, unlike anything she’d come across before. Higher-pitched, almost tinny, and nearly impossible to detect.
“Eleven minutes and counting,” Trinity said.
Megan ignored her, focused on her task. The dial was fiddly, requiring a steady, skilled hand and a keen ear.
“Fourteen minutes. Pick up the pace, Megan.”
She didn’t respond, busy keeping track of the numbers in her head. Nine so far on the third dial. Ten. Eleven.
Come on, old girl. Talk to me…
She carefully turned the dial three times to the right, searching for the sound that told her she’d found another number.
A tiny click. A shift of the mechanism.
Her eyes popped open. That’s it. I’ve got the whole combo.
She wiped the back of her gloved hand across her upper lip, reached for the first dial and entered the initial sequence.
Click. The dial popped out slightly, signaling she’d cracked the first lock.
Now the second. More numbers. The mechanism more precise.
Click. The second dial popped out a bit.
Her heart started beating faster. She grasped the third knob, her lips moving as she repeated the long sequence. Forty-one. Nineteen. Seventy-three…
It was time consuming, the mechanism finicky. If she didn’t stop at exactly the right place, if she moved a fraction of a millimeter too far with the dial, she’d have to start all over.
Almost there.
Sixty-four. Eleven. Ninety-one…
Click.
She held her breath, paused for a heartbeat and reached for the lever handle. It caught partway down as she pushed it.
Her heart sank. But then the handle gave to her consistent pressure, sliding down.
A quiet thunk filled the silent room as the main bolts slid free in the door.
Megan smiled. “I’m in,” she murmured, and eased the door open.
“What do you see?” Trinity asked.
Her heart sunk. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
A black hole stared back at her. “Not a damn thing.” Shit.
She swept her hand over the inside of it, just to make sure there wasn’t a false bottom or sides that she’d missed. “It’s a bust. I’ll keep looking.” She closed the safe and spun the dials, annoyed that she’d wasted so much time cracking an empty safe. Had their suspect even known about it?
Moving fast, she went through the place again. Checking behind appliances. Under rugs and furniture. Behind pictures. Any place where someone might hide something.
“I don’t see anything else,” she whispered, her gut beginning to tighten, that handy internal clock ticking down. She’d spent too long in here already. Time to get out.
“Roger that. Time’s up. Exfil and get back to the condo.”
She took a step toward the back door in compliance, then paused and looked up at the ceiling as a thought struck her. The bathroom. She’d looked in the most obvious places but maybe…
It was a long shot, but she’d better check one more time.
The soles of her boots were soundless on the carpet runner that lined the middle of the staircase up to the second floor. At the end of the hall, light from the streetlamp outside filtered in through the window above the old, cast iron clawfoot tub.
She walked over to the bathmat beside it, crouched and pulled it back again to sweep a gloved hand over it. No loose boards or a panel beneath it, but when she aimed the beam of her penlight at the floor she saw a few faint scratch marks in the wood. Not unusual for an old home, but the curving pattern was a giveaway.
Maybe the suspect hadn’t used the safe because the safe was too obvious if anyone came looking. Maybe he or she had gone for something more unexpected.
With the penlight secure in her teeth she grasped the edge of the tub and pulled, using her leg muscles to swing the heavy cast iron tub
toward her.
As soon as she had room to move behind it, she squeezed into the space she’d made next to the exterior wall and checked the floor. A jolt shot through her.
Son of a bitch!
One of the floorboards was sticking up slightly at the end. She pried it free with ease and quickly reached for the next.
A hole opened up beneath it.
“I got something,” she whispered, her excitement growing.
Three more boards, and she had room to peer inside. And there, in the beam of her penlight lay a hidden, thin box. She removed the lid, revealing a small cache of items.
A thin, metallic bracelet. A small, tattered blanket, carefully folded. And inside it, a small, framed picture of—
She sucked in a breath, her hand shooting out to grab the photo. Her heart thudded in her ears, struck by a deep and unexpected sense of recognition.
A couple smiling at the camera. The man stood behind the seated woman, a hand on her shoulder. Young. Maybe in their mid-to-late twenties.
I know them.
Megan stared at it, holding her breath, unable to shake the feeling. She’d seen them before, yet she couldn’t place them. Dammit. Where had she seen them? And were the items left behind by a random stranger, or their suspect?
“Megan, time to move,” Tyler said. “Two people in the back lane, headed your way.”
Was it their suspect returning? “On my way out,” she murmured, tucking the items into the box for further analysis later. She slid it inside her jacket, zipped it up and quickly put the floorboards back, then the tub.
“I’m heading to the alley to meet you,” Tyler said.
She didn’t need the backup if anything went sideways but she didn’t bother arguing as she hurried downstairs and started for the door. Then she hesitated. Leaving the cut wires and the disabled devices was a dead giveaway that someone skilled had broken in but she couldn’t stop to reconnect them now.
She paused just inside the back door, one hand on the knob, the other curled around the grip of her pistol holstered at the small of her back. “Am I clear?”
