Kill Shot

by Liliana Hart

  “All of my sensors are in place,” Logan said. “Am I clear to head back?”

  “Just a minute,” Ethan said. “Let me make sure I’ve got a good visual here.” Silence reigned for a few minutes as Ethan messed with the electronic end of things. “Okay, we’re good to go. I’ve got a complete visual of the back of the museum. Line of sight ends about a hundred feet out.”

  “You’re clear to come back, Grim Reaper. You haven’t picked up any unusual traffic.” Grace adjusted her view and panned around Logan, his right hand in the pocket of his business suit and a briefcase in his other as he joined the pedestrians on the sidewalk.

  “Ghost is on the third floor now,” Jack reported. “We’ve got a visual of the control room doors and the painting. It’s an ugly bastard. I can see why Hitler turned to tyranny.”

  “Here we go,” Ethan said. “Ghost just placed the last sensor. You’ll see the visuals on your screen, Renegade, as soon as I tap into their system. Circuits are going live now.”

  Grace watched Gabe and the curator both look up at the ceiling as the lights inside the museum flickered. But no guards came running out of the control room yelling that they’d been breached, so she let out the breath she’d been holding.

  “And we’re in,” Ethan said smugly. “Told you they’d work. All monitors are up—stairwells, elevators, bathrooms, the employee lounge, and all areas of the museum, including the restricted areas, are visible. Mission accomplished.”

  Grace panned through the crowd of faces outside the museum looking for threats. Something was making her uneasy, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. But the feeling was gone the moment she saw the gleam of black curls in the reflection of her scope. The girl’s scarf had blown around her shoulders, and a blue bow was tied in her hair. She rested her head on her mother’s shoulder and tapped chubby fingers to an internal tune against the woman’s back. The curve of the little girl’s cheek was so familiar that pain rushed down Grace’s spine and her muscles seized.

  “No,” she moaned, her mouth going dry and her heart leaping in her chest with hope—just a glimmer of hope that it might really be Maddie. She didn’t hear the change of her breathing or the animal cries of pain that escaped from her throat.

  The little girl turned her head, and Grace saw black eyes instead of Gabe’s clear blue, and her world crashed around her once again. Her hands shook, and her rifle clattered to the concrete. She pulled her legs up and hugged her knees as she tried to get control. She closed her eyes, and images bombarded her mind, piercing her soul with the accuracy of a well-aimed knife. The darkness slithered across her body like thick tar and clung to her without remorse as it suffocated her thoughts and hopes and dreams.

  No, no, no she screamed over and over in her mind. It wasn’t her daughter down there hugging another woman—a woman that didn’t know what true emptiness felt like. Maddie was gone. Gone forever. Grace’s body felt battered as rage and pain fought to find something solid to anchor itself to. She wanted to scream—to lash out—to fight, but she knew she had to keep it all inside. It was her pain, her loss, and she didn’t want to share it with anyone.

  “Shit, snap out of it, Grace.”

  Jack’s voice sounded as if it were coming from underwater—distorted and slow—the urgency her subconscious knew should be there diluted by something greater. Her body was floating, and she thought, finally…this is finally the end.

  Reality slapped her in the face with a cold hand, and she sputtered and spit as frigid water rained down on her face from the showerhead and soaked her to the skin.

  Her mind was a jumble of memories, and Jack’s face became clear as the blackness started to fade. His mouth was a thin line, and she could see the worry in his eyes. She could also see the anger. She’d compromised them all—put the entire team in danger—even though they were only doing a routine run-through. But Jack had every right to be mad because she’d known this could happen going into the mission, and she hadn’t shared it with the team.

  “What the fuck is going on?” she heard Ethan yell.

  She rolled to her hands and knees and pushed up slowly, her muscles stiff and protesting. Strings of red hair hung down her face. She’d lost the wig somewhere. Her teeth chattered, and the cold wracked her body in spasms.

  “I’m in the lobby,” Gabe said in her ear. “I want everyone offline by the time I get upstairs. We’ll have a team briefing in a half hour. Everyone meet in the suite. No arguments. And Ethan, if I find out you’ve patched through to listen in, there won’t be a box small enough for what’s left of your body to go back to your mother. Understood?”

  “Loud and clear. Dragon is out.”

  “Grim Reaper out.”

  Grace hauled herself out of the tub and took the towel Jack offered her. She didn’t look at herself in the mirror as she dried her face and hair. Her breathing was ragged, and only sheer force of will kept her legs steady beneath her.

  “Grace,” Jack said.

  “I can’t Jack. Not yet. I’m sorry.”

  She heard him sigh and say, “Oh, baby,” just before he pulled her into his arms. She was stiff against him because he wasn’t Gabe, and she knew if she let him comfort her that she wouldn’t be able to keep her emotions in check.

  “I’m okay, Jack,” she said, pushing away. “It’s my fault. I got distracted. It won’t happen again. I need to apologize to the team.”

  “Yeah, not telling us this could happen is your fault. And Gabe’s.” His voice was gentle as he handed her a thick robe to stop her shivers. “But whatever is causing this to happen isn’t your fault. Nothing that happened is your fault. I don’t have the words for you. I don’t know what to say to help you. But I know you have to get control over this. Or it’s going to kill you. And this world needs you, Grace. Whether you need it or not.”

  “Grace,” Gabe said as he came into the bathroom in a rush.

  He didn’t have time to touch her or ask if she was alright before Jack shoved him into the bedroom. They went down with a heavy thud against the thick carpet, and she winced when Jack’s fist connected with Gabe’s ribs. The fight wouldn’t last long. They never did. Jack was bigger and had more bulk, but she’d never seen Gabe come out on the losing end of a fight. The fact that he let Jack land a punch at all meant that he was feeling some guilt over not letting him know about her sooner.

  “You told me to keep a fucking eye on her,” Jack said. “You didn’t tell me she might collapse and go into a trance during the middle of a fucking mission. Those are important details, my friend.”

  Gabe only grunted as he dodged Jack’s fist.

  Grace stripped out of her wet clothes and wrapped the robe around her tighter, keeping her eyes on the two bodies rolling across the floor. Gabe twisted his position so his knees were planted in Jack’s sternum, and she knew it wouldn’t be too much longer.

  Clothes that belonged to Piccoult’s mistress hung neatly in the closet, and she pulled out a pair of designer jeans and a top that draped open in the back. She had a pair of strappy heels on her feet and her hair braided by the time Gabe finally got tired of fighting. He picked Jack up by the front of his shirt and threw him against the wall.

  An obscenely expensive looking glass plate sculpture shattered against the writing desk it had been hanging above. Jack and Gabe were both breathing hard, and blood dotted the corner of Jack’s lip. They stared at each other for a long time, and she knew they’d worked with each other long enough that words didn’t have to be spoken for them to have an entire conversation.

  “Grace, I need to talk to you,” Gabe finally said.

  “You can talk to me with the rest of the team. Your thirty minutes is up.”

  “Grace—”

  “I don’t want to talk about this now. I can’t. I’ll apologize to the others. I know they deserve that, but I don’t feel like being dissected by you right now. Just give me some time.”

  His lips tightened to a thin line, and she knew if she’d bee
n standing closer he would have grabbed her and hauled her into the bathroom where they could have some privacy, but she was already past Jack and into the main sitting room, and he didn’t have any choice but to follow.

  “This is Dragon checking in,” Ethan said through the com link. “Everyone okay out there?”

  “Stand by,” Gabe said. “We’ll wait until everyone joins us.”

  “Grim Reaper back online,” Logan said. “I’m at the door of your suite.”

  Grace took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. She’d made a mistake, and she’d face the others like a big girl. She opened the door for Logan and met his gray eyes as he walked over the threshold.

  Jack and Gabe had come into the room behind her, and Jack tossed Gabe a beer before he grabbed one for himself—the hostility gone as if it had never happened. Jack turned a chair around and straddled it, and Logan stood by the door as if he was waiting to make a hasty exit. Gabe stared at her a long moment, and for the first time since she could remember, she couldn’t read his expression. It was the face of the man she’d been married to that last year he’d worked for Tussad. The face of a man who had secrets.

  “Is someone going to tell us what’s going on?” Ethan asked impatiently.

  “I want to apol—”

  “No,” Gabe said, interrupting her. “This is my op. My mistake. I’m the one who owes you all an apology.” He stood with his back to the glass balcony doors that overlooked the city, his expression grim. “There are personal issues I knew could come up on this mission, and I knew that Grace might not be able to make it through the op without her past weighing down on her. This is my fault, and I take a hundred percent of the responsibility. And at this point I have to think of the team and the mission.”

  Grace’s hands clamped into fists, and something terrible ripped at her insides. Gabe’s gaze was steady on hers, as if the others weren’t in the room at all, but he wasn’t looking at her as he had twenty-four hours ago.

  “You’re the best sniper I’ve ever worked with, Grace, but until you let yourself heal, you’re a danger to this team. I’m sending you back to headquarters. Once Jack and I have secured the painting, you and I will talk this through and see what we need to do. But I can’t take the chance with the rest of the team.”

  Cold fingers of fear licked down her spine. She’d always chosen to isolate herself—to be alone because she wanted to. It had always been her decision. Now he was taking that away from her. And then there was the fact that Gabe had made her love him again and was pushing her away because things were getting too hard to deal with.

  “And what about all of your promises, Gabe? You’re the one who wanted me here. I was doing just fine on my own.”

  “You can lie to yourself all you want, Grace, but that doesn’t change the facts. I brought you here because I love you, and it’s time for you to stop running. I brought you here because you need me as much as I need you.”

  “And what about Tussad?”

  “I’ll deal with Tussad another day. Once we’re not neck deep in shit in the middle of hostile territory. Did it ever occur to you that revenge might not be the best option?” he asked, frustration clouding his voice for the first time. “Because it’s sure as hell occurred to me. Maybe if you could let go of the past, you could have a future that didn’t involve you having a breakdown during the middle of a mission. Maybe you could have a normal life again.”

  “What the fuck is a normal life?” she yelled, hating the fact that her control was slipping. “You want to go back to what we had before? Where your entire life was a constant lie? One you didn’t feel the need to share with me? Can’t you ever think of anything besides the next mission? When did she stop mattering to you, Gabe?”

  She knew her words were harsh, and she meant to lash out and cause him pain. It might be childish, but she was hurting too.

  “Jesus, Grace,” Jack said, shaking his head. “You’re not playing fair.”

  “Stay out of this, Jack. Nothing is ever fair. I know what matters in my life. And I know what I’m living for. Tussad is mine. And taking him out of this world is worth spending an eternity in hell. It can’t be much worse than spending it here on Earth.”

  “Listen to me, Grace. If you want to fight, then we’ll fight. But not here. Not now. Tussad is another issue and another op. You and I are another issue. I know someone who can help us when we get back to headquarters. But right now, you need to do the best thing for the team, and go home.”

  Numbness settled over her body, and she could feel the color fade from her cheeks. She wanted to scream. She wanted to let free the rage that was pummeling against her rigid muscles. To release the pain that was seizing her lungs until every gasp of oxygen felt as if it could be her last.

  “Fine,” she finally managed to say. “You’re the boss.” She turned on her heel and headed to the bedroom to gather her rifle.

  “Grace,” Jack called out. “Don’t do anything stupid. Just go home and wait for us there.”

  She arrowed him with a look that made him come to his feet and move the chair out of the way.

  “I don’t have a home, Jack. I never did.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Gabe watched the bedroom door and cursed himself a thousand ways to Sunday. Would they never have it easy? What had he done in this life to deserve this?

  The others were deadly silent as they listened to the snick of Grace’s rifle case closing. She came out of the bedroom as cold and calm as she’d ever been, her wig straightened and back on her head. Her face was devoid of emotion, though she was pale as a ghost.

  “Logan will drive you to the airport,” Gabe said. “The plane will be ready to take off as soon as you arrive. My security team will meet you at the airport in London to see to your safety. I’ll have another of my pilots come back and retrieve the rest of us after the op is finished.”

  Logan never showed much emotion, but the look he gave Gabe made sure he knew his displeasure. But Logan knew how to follow orders, and he nodded his head sharply.

  “I don’t think so,” Grace said with a cynical smile. “I can take care of myself.”

  Cold fear snaked through his body as she took the watch off her wrist and slipped the earpiece out of her ear. “We’re done here, Gabe. Don’t come after me again.” She tossed the electronics on the couch and headed for the door.

  “It wasn’t a request, Grace. And I’ll come after you as many damn times as it takes to get through that thick skull of yours. Logan will take you to the plane.”

  Logan moved to stand in front of her, and before Gabe or Jack either one could intercede, Grace dropped her bag and shot her hands toward Logan. Gabe had to admire her skill, even though he regretted teaching her those particular moves. She used two fingers to slap at Logan’s shoulders, chest and neck, and Logan looked stunned as he fell to the floor, his limbs temporarily paralyzed.

  “Have a nice life, boys,” she said with a salute as she closed the door of the suite silently behind her.

  “Well, you have to give her points for style,” Jack drawled, sitting back in his chair.

  “What happened? Ethan asked. “I can’t see anything, dammit. Why is Kill Shot offline? Her heart monitor isn’t even registering. You didn’t kill her, did you?”

  Gabe closed his eyes and straddled the other dining room chair across from Jack. Logan was beginning to get the feeling back in his body, and he turned his head to glare at Gabe.

  “Sorry,” Gabe said. “You should be fine in a few minutes.”

  “Except for his pride and his manhood,” Jack muttered.

  Gabe ran his fingers through his hair and looked at his watch. They still had eight hours before they were scheduled to break into the museum. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through the coded numbers he’d assigned until he found the one he was looking for.

  “Simon,” he said to his pilot. “Grace is on her way to you. You’re her only way out of country. Take her ba
ck to headquarters. She’s to be detained and on restricted access until we return. Do whatever you have to do to get her to cooperate.”

  Gabe hung up the phone, and Jack let out a low whistle, drawing his attention. “You’re digging yourself a hell of a hole to get out of.”

  “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe.”

  Ethan cleared his throat and said, “So, by using my amazing deductive reasoning skills, I’m assuming that you and Grace know each other a hell of a lot better than we all thought.”

  Gabe sighed, and knew he couldn’t keep the truth from them any longer. They needed to know what they were dealing with.

  “You could say that. Grace is my wife.”

  “Holy shit,” Ethan said. “That, I wasn’t expecting. How come you’re not mentioned in her file? It says she’s never married and has no living relatives.”

  “You’d better stop digging through our files, kid,” Jack growled.

  “There’s no mention of me in any file,” Gabe said. “As far as the US government is concerned, I don’t exist on paper.”

  He said his next words quickly—mechanically—as if reciting from the dossier that was put together after Maddie’s death.

  “Two years ago, our daughter was targeted by a sniper in Tussad’s army and killed right in front of Grace’s eyes. The trauma has made her—” Gabe searched for the words he wanted, but couldn’t seem to think of one that would make them understand.

  “She’s not the same person she used to be,” Jack said softly. “I can see glimpses of the real Grace in there somewhere, but until her hatred of Tussad is resolved, she’s not going to get better. She needs professional help.”

  “I know that,” Gabe said, the frustration evident in his voice. “And I’ll make sure she gets it once this is over.”

  “So what do we do now?” Ethan asked.

  “Nothing has changed,” Gabe said. “We get the painting and move forward with the plan.”