by Kaylea Cross
She liked him a whole lot, and considering how she’d felt about him for the past twelve years, that was saying something.
“Welcome,” he murmured. “I got you some more throat lozenges too. The orange ones you like that don’t taste like death.”
She cracked a grin. “Thanks. I hate the taste of death.”
“Me too.” His warm half-smile made her sore, tight chest compress.
He represented part of her past that she wanted to forget and leave behind, but he also drew her in and that invisible pull was getting stronger every day she spent with him. They’d formed a bond whether she wanted one or not.
She also trusted him. Not completely, because she didn’t trust anyone completely except for maybe Marcus. But she trusted Tyler more than most. And that was dangerous for someone like her.
The sooner this op was done and behind them, the better for her because he was taking down her protective walls brick by brick and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep him out. Or worse, whether she even wanted to.
“I’ll take a shift after I drink this,” she told him, the warmth of the tea coming through the paper cup soothing all on its own. Her face was burning hot but the rest of her was freezing, especially her hands and feet.
“Yeah, no.”
“Yes. I’m feeling way better than I was.”
“Liar.” He drew a fingertip down the side of her face, his eyes delving into hers.
Suddenly she wasn’t cold anymore. An internal wave of heat rushed through her.
Then he drew that fingertip down her cheek, paused to curl his hand beneath her chin and swept his thumb across her burning cheek in a tender caress that stole her breath. It was the first time he’d touched her intimately since they’d kissed.
Heart thudding, she stared up at him helplessly, unable to look away much less breathe.
“I don’t like seeing you sick.” He dropped his hand and shook his head. “Move over.”
“What?”
“Just move over.”
Moving over was not a good idea if he planned to do what she thought he did, but she felt so damn miserable there was no risk in things getting out of hand. She slid over, warning, “You’ll get sick.”
“If I do, you can take care of me.”
“Oh, God, spare me from the dreaded Man Cold.” She withheld a grumbled response. She wasn’t the Florence Nightingale type. But for him she was willing to maybe make an exception.
He settled behind her on the bed, staying on top of the covers. A strong arm curved around her waist and drew her into his body.
A shudder rolled through her, as much from the chills racing through her as from the intimate contact. She’d imagined being in bed with him a thousand times, but never like this.
Tyler shifted so that he was plastered as tight to her as possible. His face was buried in her hair, his breath cool on her hot neck. “Sleep if you can.”
“The tablet…”
“It’s right beside me. I’ll keep watch, don’t worry.” He squeezed her gently. “Sleep, dimples,” he whispered.
Her eyelids were so heavy. And he was so damn solid and warm behind her. The nickname he called her was kind of sweet too. Why did that put a huge lump in her throat?
They lay like that in silence for a minute, exhaustion tugging at her but her mind racing. “What if she’s not coming back?” she whispered, meaning the female suspect.
“She’ll come back.”
What if she didn’t come back in time? They only had another two days here. If the woman hadn’t shown up by then, Trinity was pulling them out and sending them back to Marcus’s place. Megan didn’t want to go back until they’d captured the woman.
“We’ll get her, one way or the other,” he said.
The conviction in his voice eased the anxiety gnawing at her and reminded her that he was committed to this mission. That he would stand by her and see it through, no matter what.
It meant more to her than he would ever know. And oh, man, it was gonna hurt like a bitch when he left and went back to his own life at the end of all this. That was the only way this could end. “Yeah.”
They would capture the female suspect, and start getting some damn answers. Then she would brace for the pain of Tyler leaving her life forever.
Chapter Twelve
The few hours before dawn were the best time to operate.
Amber smoothed a hand over her chin-length, blond wig before exiting the car she’d rented at the train station an hour ago using one of her aliases. She’d waited long enough for the heat to die down before returning here. Now she would grab what she needed and leave Vienna behind for good.
A hot ball of nerves squirmed in the pit of her stomach. Part anxiety. Part guilt.
She might have fucked up. Might have fucked up big time, and she hadn’t been able to find out for sure yet. But if she had…
If she had, then there was a chance Hannah Miller might be innocent.
The odds were slim, but based on intel she’d scooped up last night, there was still a chance. Someone had been feeding her lies. And it was too late to stop this now because Amber had already sold Hannah’s information to one of the most ruthless criminal groups in Syria.
She couldn’t think about that now. She had to keep a clear head and not let any of this cloud her senses or judgment.
Maintaining a straight and upright posture pulled at the healing bullet wound on her side. She was lucky it had been shallow. The round had passed through her external oblique muscle without hitting any bone. She’d hastily stitched it up that night in the cheap motel room a few hours after leaving Vienna, once she’d crossed the border into Slovakia.
The sewing job wasn’t the neatest. The wound still seeped and was sore as hell, swollen and puffy and red. That, added with the fever she was running, told her it was infected. After she retrieved her things from the safehouse she would get some antibiotics from a local pharmacy and head for the Hungarian border. There she would hole up for another few days and monitor her security situation before planning her next move.
She still didn’t know exactly who was after her. Her efforts to identify the man and woman chasing her had turned up nothing. Though the man who had shot her was now dead, the last Valkyrie she’d sold information on wasn’t. Wherever Hannah was, she was most definitely still alive.
For now, at least. And the threat against her and Amber’s lives increased steadily with every hour that passed.
Taking a deep breath of the warm night air, Amber walked toward the safehouse. She’d passed it twice earlier today to make sure it was still unoccupied. Once on the bus, once in an Uber, then just before parking her rental on a side street a block over.
Coming here again was a huge risk, especially so soon and in her weakened condition, but it was a risk she was willing to take. Once she retrieved the items, she could dig more into the intel she’d found on Hannah, and act accordingly. All the other dirty Valkyries were dead.
After the situation with Hannah was taken care of, she could start targeting the people responsible for dreaming up and implementing the Valkyrie Program.
The people responsible for destroying her life.
Her handler’s final message to her before killing himself still haunted her.
I’m sorry for my part in all of this. I’m sorry for the things I covered up and the suffering I caused you. These belong to you and now I’ve returned them. I hope you can use them to find answers, and then a measure of peace after all that was taken from you.
She’d admired and looked up to him. A long time Air Force intelligence officer, Barry had been her mentor for the nine years she’d been assigned to him. They’d developed a close relationship. He’d always had her back.
But he’d lied to her too, by omission, and that cut deep. Now the photo, blanket and bracelet were the only clues he’d been able to leave her.
They were the keys to unlocking the mystery of her past.
Now th
ey would either be her salvation…or her undoing.
****
The past couple days had been rough, but today was much better. No more sore throat or fever, just a slight headache and fatigue. Megan was ready to rock, and more motivated than ever to find and protect the missing Valkyries. Right after she took this hacker bitch down.
Tyler’s quiet breathing and the air conditioning were the only sounds in the condo as Megan sat in the chair by the window watching the tablet and wishing she was immersed in her most current read. A romantic thriller with a kickass heroine that reminded her of Chloe.
Not as kickass as a Valkyrie like her or Chloe, but still, pretty damn awesome. Currently the heroine was waiting to spring a trap on the villain—a skin trade kingpin far too close to some of the human pieces of shit Megan had targeted over the years—and all his underling, wastes-of-skin minions. The heroine had the entire hideout rigged with Symtex.
Megan couldn’t wait for her to blow them all to hell.
A soft beep came from the tablet in her lap. She grabbed it, a surge of excitement hitting her when she saw the alert from one of the cameras posted on the building down the alley from the target house.
Staring at it, she held her breath as a woman came into view. Alone. She had chin-length blond hair but her height and build were right for their female suspect.
The woman walked at a casual pace, her posture relaxed, gaze straight ahead. No sign of nervousness, no glancing around. Her hands were hidden in the pockets of her leather jacket.
Time seemed to slow as Megan watched her, praying this was their long-lost suspect.
The woman walked up the cobbled alley and turned left toward the target house. She stepped right up to the back door and reached for the doorknob, keys in hand.
Gotcha.
“Tyler.”
He jerked awake instantly and pushed up into a sitting position, on alert. “What?”
“It’s her. We gotta go.”
As he jumped out of bed she was already reaching for her weapons. After inserting her earpiece she alerted Trinity, who responded that she and another former Valkyrie she’d brought to Vienna yesterday would move in from the north and east while Megan and Tyler came from the south and west.
Megan smiled, more than ready to take this woman down.
Time to kick some ass.
****
For the moment luck seemed to be on her side. Amber hoped it held. All she needed was six or seven minutes to get in and out of the house, then she would be free and clear once again.
The wire she’d put in place from the back doorknob to the edge of the doorframe was still there and intact. A measure of relief trickled through her. She disabled it and stepped inside with her weapon drawn, locking the door behind her as she looked around.
Everything appeared exactly as she’d left it.
She swept the lower floor anyway, then moved up the stairwell, her heart beating faster. She checked each room to be sure no one had been inside while she was gone, more relief hitting her when she finally reached the bathroom without incident. She slid the pistol back into the concealed holster in the waistband of her jeans.
Pulling the end of the clawfoot tub across the wooden floor, she held her breath and shone her penlight at her hiding place. One of the boards appeared to be higher on one end than she remembered.
She paused, taking a closer look to be sure it hadn’t been tampered with. The chances of anyone finding this were almost zero. Still…
A soft sigh escaped her when her gaze landed on the thin box inside the hiding spot, the tension in her chest dissipating. The bracelet was on top of the folded blanket, with the framed photo inside it. Exactly as she’d left it.
Moving fast now, she gathered the items up and tucked them inside her jacket where they would be safe, then put everything back the way it had been. On her way out she reset the cameras and wires, checked to make sure the coast was clear, then locked the door and headed around the back of the house toward the alley.
“Drop it and put your hands up,” a female voice said from the shadows.
Shit. Amber whirled and drew her weapon—
Just as four armed people emerged from the shadows to encircle her.
****
Megan kept her pistol aimed at the woman’s chest as she stepped forward out of the shadows. “Drop it,” she growled, her finger on the trigger. If this woman so much as twitched wrong, Megan was taking her down.
Tyler was to her right, guarding the approach from the alley. Trinity was to her left. The former Valkyrie sniper Georgia was behind her, fanning out toward Megan. The female suspect had nowhere to go. It was four against one.
The woman stared right at her. Her expression was hard, her weapon gripped at hip level. Never looking away, she slowly bent her knees and crouched, lowering her gun hand. Megan kept her gaze locked on it until the weapon rested on the pavement and the woman straightened once more.
Still she watched the hands. No telling what other kinds of weapons the woman had, or what she would do now. A cornered suspect was the most dangerous of all. “Hands up.”
The command earned her a cold stare. The woman stood there in defiance for a few moments, then slowly raised her hands.
“Take her,” Trinity said.
As one, they began moving forward. Tightening the noose.
The woman’s gaze darted around the circle. She took a step back, her hand going behind her.
Nope. Megan fired.
The dart hit her in the side of the neck. The woman grabbed it, whirled to flee and managed to wrench it out of her skin. It fell to the cobbles just as her knees buckled.
She sprawled out on her stomach. Tried to struggle to her knees. Managed to prop herself up on her elbows just as Megan reached her.
Megan grabbed the woman’s arms, wrenched them behind her and secured them with plastic flex-cuffs. “Who are you?”
No answer. Not surprising. Narrowed green eyes squinted at Megan. Unfocused.
Trinity knelt next to them to take the woman’s fingerprints digitally and send them off for analysis. Megan found another pistol in the woman’s pocket, a military-style knife strapped to her thigh and a switchblade hidden in the sleeve of her jacket. No ID.
“She’s wounded.”
Megan stopped and looked down at where Trinity had pulled the woman’s shirt up to expose a bandage taped across her lower left ribs. It was stained with fresh blood but not saturated, not an immediate concern. They’d wait to get a better look at it later.
She unzipped the woman’s jacket and found a small bundle resting against her chest. The bracelet and photo were folded up inside the tattered blanket.
Megan tucked them into her own zipped-up jacket, staring down at the woman’s slack face. Why the hell were these items important enough for her to risk her life to come back for them not once, but twice? It made no sense.
Just one of the many mysteries they would hopefully unravel once the tranquilizer wore off and they could start getting some answers. Who she was, the Valkyries she had targeted, and why.
Megan checked their suspect thoroughly for more weapons, then reached under her shirt to check for anything hidden in her bra. She came up with a tiny flash drive.
Bingo. She tucked it into her pocket. “Okay, let’s go,” she said, hoping this little device held the intel they were desperate for. If they could find out where Hannah was, then maybe they could still save her.
Tyler hurried forward. He holstered his weapon, bent and scooped the woman up, effortlessly hoisting her over one broad shoulder. The woman’s hair slipped.
A wig.
Megan pulled it off. Long brown hair about the same shade as hers was carefully pinned into place beneath it.
She handed the wig to Trinity and started walking down the alley at a fast clip, anxious to get out of the city and back to safer turf.
Together they swiftly made their way to the waiting van parked up the alley. Megan and Georgia st
ayed in the back with the unconscious woman lying between them while Tyler drove and Trinity rode shotgun.
“Here.” Megan handed Trinity the flash drive to plug into her tablet. Not that she expected them to find much. If this woman was a good enough hacker to be responsible for selling out the other Valkyries, then she would have encrypted the files and covered her tracks.
“They’re all corrupted,” Trinity announced ten seconds later.
Surprise, surprise.
“Shallow bullet wound,” Georgia said, tucking a lock of long blond hair behind her ear to take a closer look at the damage beneath the woman’s bandage. “Looks like she stitched it up herself. It’s infected and she’s got a fever. I’ll—”
She went silent so fast that Megan immediately glanced down. The blood rushed out of her face and her gasp sliced through the silent interior.
Trinity whipped around in her seat, frowning in concern. “What?”
Megan swallowed, staring at the mark on the woman’s left hip. “She’s one of us,” she said hoarsely, her throat tightening under a sudden rush of rage.
She’d wondered. They’d all wondered. And they’d all hoped otherwise. But now they had irrefutable proof.
One of their own had tried to destroy them.
Thick, silent tension throbbed inside the vehicle. “We’ll get her patched up on the flight to Germany,” Trinity said, and faced forward once more.
A fellow Valkyrie had sold out their sisters and set them up to die. Maybe even Chloe.
For what? For money? It made her sick. Made her want to give the bitch the antidote and revive her just so Megan could give her the beating she so richly deserved. How could one of their own betray them that way?
Loyal Unto Death.
The world had been harsh enough to them. Making them all orphans and then forcing them into the program. Enduring whatever the trainers dished out. Then, after graduation, the ops they’d performed.
Only the best made it through. The most skilled. The most dedicated.
She was proud of it. Proud that she’d come through it all, and proud of her service to her country. The things she’d done and the kills she’d made had all made the world a better place. Her conscience was clear. She was part of something that even after all she’d been through and all she’d seen, she had stupidly believed was incorruptible.
