Kill Shot

by Liliana Hart

  “Good work,” Gabe said.

  Gabe’s eyes were cold and shuttered, and the look of his face would have been terrifying to a normal person. She knew what it felt like to have your humanity slide away as the machine programmed to do this kind of work took over. She’d felt it before they’d left the safety of the Zodiac.

  “Grim Reaper, you’re up,” Ethan said. “I’m sending the path you need to take to your GPS. It’s a convoluted route that will mix up the sectors that get shut down, but the guards won’t be paying any attention.”

  Logan adjusted the bag of explosives he carried with him and said, “On your count, Dragon.”

  Logan took off at a run, disappearing quickly in the rain and darkness.

  “Grim Reaper has made target,” Ethan said after a few minutes had passed. “Renegade is up. Sending your coordinates now. Kimball’s scientist is staying in the pool house. You’ll take him out first and then follow the second set of coordinates up to the main house.”

  Jack looked at the GPS in his hand. “On your count.”

  Grace and Gabe waited patiently for their turn, and she scooted closer to him to steal a bit of his body heat. He felt like a furnace in the middle of the stormy cold. He took her chin between his fingers and kissed her once.

  “You’re up, Kill Shot,” Ethan said. “Sending your coordinates now to the elevated area you told me you wanted. You should have a nice view of the whole island from there.”

  “Love you,” Gabe mouthed as she moved to take her position.

  She nodded once and kissed him hard a final time. “On your count, Dragon.”

  She followed Ethan’s coordinates across the island, climbing the steep rocks that led to the top of a manmade waterfall. Boulders and palms surrounded the area and would give her good cover. The rocks were slick against her hands and feet, and she felt the quick sting of a sharp rock as it sliced through her shoe and into her heel. She stayed low to the ground and found the perfect position to set up her rifle behind a large rock that had a wide crag right down the center all the way to the ground.

  Grace put her rifle together as quickly in the pouring rain as she did in perfect weather, and she took position behind the infrared scope. She’d have to change scopes once the sun came out, and the change between night and day would be her most vulnerable time. She sighted across the island slowly and was pleased with the location.

  * * *

  “You’ve got to give me an affirmative position for the launch site,” Gabe said to Ethan two hours later.

  The sun had reluctantly risen, and they were surrounded by so much ocean that it looked as if the sun was coming directly out of the waves. But the welcome heat of the day didn’t chase the rain away. The black skies turned a putrid gray and continued to rumble.

  “I can’t tell, dammit,” Ethan said, the frustration evident in his voice. “It looks as if there are two separate launch sites. Why would he release two batches of the weapon?”

  “One has to be a decoy,” Gabe said. “Kimball knew we were looking for him, and he’d plan for all contingencies. Send me the coordinates for both launch sites. I’ve got no choice but to check them both.”

  “I’ve got a visual on the ferry,” Grace said. “It looks like everyone’s on board from my count.” She deliberately glanced over Tussad’s familiar face and controlled her anger. Some habits were hard to break.

  “There’s movement on the island,” Ethan said. “Household staff is moving inside the main house, and guards are doing perimeter checks now that the storm’s not as severe and they can see better. I’ve marked the image I’m assuming is Kimball as green on the GPS. He’s been in the same place all morning.

  Gabe ran to the first launch site, knowing his time was running out. Once the ferry reached the island, it would be too late for him to stop it. He heard the guards talking before he reached the first launch site and knew he’d picked the wrong one immediately. The guards were low-level security, and they didn’t even hear him as he came up behind them. He shot the first and snapped the neck of the guard next to him before either was able to call out for help.

  “Three town cars have pulled up to the docks,” Grace said. “Kimball’s not in any of them.”

  “Do you still have a visual on the one you think is Kimball?” Gabe asked Ethan as he ran to the other launch site.

  “The target is still in place. Would he still be in bed with guests arriving so soon? It doesn’t look as if he’s moved.”

  The launch site was on the other side of the island, and he listened to Ethan’s warnings as he called out when guards were in his path. He only had to take out two before he found himself at his destination.

  There were once again only two guards, but Nigel Peters stood in the center of the small clearing, the launch code in his hand as he typed in the numbers to activate the weapon.

  “Ferry is docking,” Grace said.

  “Something seems off here, Ghost,” Ethan said.

  “Are you getting other heat signals nearby?” Gabe asked.

  “No, that’s what seems off.”

  Gabe tuned out Ethan and knew he’d have to take out both guards quickly. Peters was trained in combat, and he’d be expecting him. He was more than likely armed as well. Gabe threw his knife at the first guard and shot the second guard even as Peters brought up his own weapon.

  Gabe rolled and fired, while Peters returned fire in slow, steady increments, so Gabe had no choice but to head for cover in a direction he already knew was a dead end. He held still behind a thick palm tree and didn’t flinch as a bullet sent shards of the trunk into his cheek and neck. All Peters needed was a target, and he’d be damned if he’d give him one.

  The report of a long-distance rifle had Gabe dropping to the ground and taking stock of the situation. Peters was on the ground, a perfectly round bullet hole through the center of his forehead.

  Gabe looked up to where Grace was positioned over the waterfalls on the other side of island. The shot she’d taken had been from almost a mile away. There were only a handful of people in the world who could make a shot like that. It was a phenomenal gift, but there wasn’t time to do anything but embrace the feeling that things were about to go to shit very quickly.

  “Get out of there, Kill Shot. You’ve just given away your position.”

  “I’m already moving. And you’re welcome for saving your sorry ass.”

  “You can kiss it later. Just move!”

  “I can see the ferry from my position,” Logan said. “They’re unloading, and Kimball’s men are escorting the members to the cars with umbrellas.”

  “I’m with the weapon,” Gabe said, looking at the small cylinder buried partially in the sand. The countdown had already begun on the white plastic tube, but there was an abort button just below the glowing red numbers.

  He felt the sting in his shoulder before the sound of gunfire registered. Liquid fire raced through his veins, and he could smell his singed skin where the bullet had exited. He dropped to his knees and ignored the demands through his com link to tell them he was all right. He brought his other arm up to try and hit the abort button once again when a hand pressed against the wound in his shoulder. He gritted his teeth against the pain, threw his head back, and shoved his fist into his attacker’s groin. Gabe was losing a lot of blood, and he wouldn’t be able to fight for long.

  “I’m going to make your death terribly slow,” Kimball said, kicking Gabe flat on his back while he walked off the pain in his balls. “You’re a pain in the ass.”

  Kimball kicked Gabe in the ribs and leaned over him, slamming the butt of his gun across the side of his face. He didn’t lose consciousness. But it was close.

  “What do you think of my suit?” Kimball asked, slapping his across the face. “I know I had your man fooled. You’re not the only one who gets to have all the fun toys.”

  Gabe opened his eyes and took a good look at his enemy. He was covered from head to toe in what looked like sealskin, bu
t Gabe had seen it before and knew it was a complex design of state of the art materials and intricate wiring.

  “It completely erases all body heat. As if I’m not really here at all.” He pulled Gabe up by his shoulder, squeezing the wound. “Let’s move back a bit. The show’s about to start.”

  Gabe watched with impotent fury as the canister launched and the aerosol was released into the air.

  “Why don’t we go greet my guests? I’m sure most of them will be thrilled to see you again. But I’m thinking they’re mostly going to want to try to kill you. I believe you’ve done damage to all of their businesses at one point or another.”

  Kimball looked around them, and his gaze landed on the spot Grace had killed Peters from. “I’m glad he brought you along, Grace. I’ve been thinking of you these last few weeks. I’m not nearly through with you yet. I know you can hear me. I know all of you can hear me. Make sure you get in a good position to watch your team leader die. Your game’s over. Looks like the good guys lose.”

  There was nothing but silence over Gabe’s com link now, and he was grateful for the chance to think without interruption.

  “It’s funny, you know?” Kimball asked. “All of those years I spent whoring for the CIA, and all I heard was stories about you. I guess you’ve just never met your match before.”

  Kimball squeezed at his shoulder again, and Gabe’s knees buckled, but he stayed upright.

  “Let’s go, Brennan. You’re going to get to see The Passover Project up close and personal. It’ll be a hell of a show.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  “I’ve closed Gabe out of our circuit,” Ethan said through the com links. “Please tell me someone has a plan.”

  Grace kept running across the island, her pistol in her hand and her rifle slung across her back. It took everything she had not to let the fear over Gabe’s safety take control. She could be afraid later. Right now she had to save him.

  There was only one other place on the island that would give her the position she needed to have a clear shot at Kimball. The guard tower was just down and to the south of the main house. It was built from stucco and glass to match the villa, and it resembled a turret, though it had a flat roof.

  “Grim Reaper, is the fuse lit?” She asked, referring to the explosives he was constructing all over the island.

  “We’re lit. What do you need?”

  “I need a spotter. Meet me at the guard tower at the south end of the island.”

  “Roger that.”

  “The scientist has been taken care of,” Jack said. “I’m crawling through the rafters in the main house, and I’ve got Gabe in my sights. Kimball has him in a room on the southwest side. Kimball’s showing him off like a damned prize. No one is talking about the auction anymore. If they leave him alone, I can get him out, but if I go down there now I’ll be dead before my feet touch the floor.”

  The guard tower came into view, and Grace didn’t slow her momentum. She brought her pistol up and took out the two guards at the bottom. Logan met her at the stairs, and he covered her as she went up to the top level, dispatching the remaining two guards.

  “You’re all clear,” Logan said.

  “Call out if you need help,” Grace said as he went back downstairs to guard her back. She opened the sliding glass windows that surrounded the top of the tower and slid out onto what could loosely be called a fire escape. She replaced her pistol at the small of her back and climbed onto the flat roof.

  The rain had steadily picked up throughout the morning, and visibility was getting more difficult by the second. She laid down flat, ignoring the wet that seemed to surround her from all sides, and placed her rifle on a stand to keep it stable.

  “Shit, I can’t see them from here.” She looked again through her scope, but all she could make out from the angled corner room was a single arm holding a drink. “You’ve got to get them out of that room, Jack. I need a better shot.”

  “Just a minute,” he answered. “Something’s about to happen.”

  * * *

  Gabe sat up as straight as he could in the chair Kimball had placed him in, and he stared ahead as the men and woman he’d betrayed before found out his true identity. He didn’t make a sound when Gabrielle Montpellier—a woman who was more ruthless than any man in the room and who’d once ordered a bombing at a French elementary school to gain her way into this select group of terrorists—pushed her manicured thumb into the exit wound at the front of his shoulder. He didn’t even glance her way as she casually rinsed the blood off her thumb in the glass of champagne she was handed by one of Kimball’s staff.

  They all took their turns trying to make his pain worse, and he knew they’d eventually get what they wanted. He wouldn’t stay conscious much longer if he didn’t stop the bleeding.

  “I didn’t come here to torture this man,” a voice said from the back of the room. “I’ve already had the opportunity to do so, and I’m bored with your party. I want the weapon.”

  Tussad’s voice was as familiar to Gabe as his own, and he held himself rigidly still so he wouldn’t go after the man’s throat. He wouldn’t make it far, and all he’d get for his effort was another bullet in his back.

  “I’m so glad you brought us back to our purpose, Tussad. I can always count on you,” Kimball said.

  “Where is the weapon?” Gabrielle asked. “You cannot expect us to pay your outrageous opening bid without seeing a demonstration.”

  “Your demonstration will be starting in the next few minutes,” Kimball said. “The great thing about this formula is that you can adjust how quickly you want it to respond. It can have a delay of up to twenty-four hours, or it can show itself in a matter of minutes. I think you’ll enjoy the results as much as I have. Why don’t we all go into the dining room? There are plenty of chairs, and the floor is tile. Things are going to get messy.”

  “Is Mr. Brennan not our demonstration?” Tussad asked.

  “Not for this particular session. Once you get an idea of what the weapon can do, we’ll start the bidding. The winner can use Mr. Brennan as their guinea pig. Or should I call you Ghost?” Kimball asked, leaning forward so Gabe had no choice but to look him in the eyes.

  The others filed out of the room, but Kimball stayed behind. “Your wife should be dead just about now. And the rest of your team. My men know where they’re hiding, and they know about the boat you have stashed just off the island. I’ll keep you alive until I get word they’re all dead. It seems fitting you should be the last.”

  Kimball saluted with two fingers and left Gabe alone in the room. He heard the lock snick shut on the outside of the door and Kimball give orders to his guards to keep a close watch. It wasn’t until he was truly alone that he allowed himself to slump down in the chair. He was trapped in an oversized media room that had the bad fortune to have white carpet and white suede chairs grouped around small round tables. A large screen sat behind him, covering the entire wall, white velvet curtains flanking each side. A full bar and kitchen sat to his right, and a bank of windows with the shades mostly pulled down sat on his left. There wasn’t a lot to work with.

  He tapped the button on his watch that gave him direct communication with his command center. Unfortunately, his command center was stuck in a boat several miles from shore.

  “Dragon, do you copy?”

  Gabe used his good arm to pull the top half of his wetsuit down so his chest was bared and he could see how bad the wound at his shoulder was.

  It was bad. Really bad.

  “I copy, Ghost. Damn, it’s good to hear your voice.”

  “You’ll change your mind eventually. Has everyone checked in?”

  He knew by Ethan’s hesitation that something was wrong. “Where’s Grace?”

  “I can’t get her to respond on the com link. Grim Reaper, either. Jack’s inside the house. He should be coming through your door in just a few minutes. The last thing Grace said before the line went cold was that Jack would get you out.”


  The pain in his body was easily forgotten, and something else took its place. Something dangerous and dark. He searched through the drawers in the tiny kitchen area until he found a stack of clean white dishtowels. He pressed one of the smaller ones to the wound on his chest and then wrapped a larger one so it looped under his arm. He held one end of the towel with his teeth as he knotted it tightly.

  His gun was gone, but he searched the rest of the drawer for something he could use as a weapon. There were no knives, but one of Kimball’s staff had left a corkscrew under a napkin. It would have to do.

  Gabe heard the grunt and fall of the two guards standing outside his door, and Jack slipped in a few seconds later. He must have looked worse than he thought if Jack’s grimace was anything to judge by.

  “Do you need help?” he asked, readjusting the crude bandage Gabe had tied around his shoulder.

  “I’m good.”

  “What are we going to do about Kimball? We can’t go in guns blazing and make it back out alive.”

  “We find Grace and Logan, and if things have gone to shit we detonate the explosives and get the hell off this island.”

  Gabe didn’t have to explain to Jack that he wasn’t leaving the island without Grace and Logan’s bodies, if there were even bodies to claim.

  * * *

  “We’ve got company,” Grace heard Logan call out. “Six or seven headed our direction.”

  She left her rifle in position on top of the guard tower and slid down the fire escape all the way to the ground. The first guards were running toward them, weapons raised, as her feet hit the dirt. Plaster and mud exploded all around her, and she slid feet first toward her enemy, her pistol raised and firing rapid shots as Logan laid down cover fire.

  The area was mostly open, and there weren’t a lot of places available to hide, but she hunkered behind a decorative half wall that followed the stone path up to the main house. Gabe’s voice rattled in her ear, and she breathed a sigh of relief that he was okay, but she couldn’t deal with the distraction right now and turned off her com link. She saw Logan do the same thing and nodded in his direction while she changed the clip to her gun.