by Zoe York
While the two men laughed up front, Kent cracked open one of the crates. There, beneath mountains of packing were the golden yellows and reds of the amber-decorated wall panels, beautiful and now going into the right hands because of him and his Elena.
Kent climbed over the boxes until the back of the driver’s head was within view. There wasn’t a sliding window, just an old fashioned one. He’d have to get into the cab area the hard way.
He “knocked” with two rounds in one window and out the other. Ideally, both men would have stopped the truck and gotten out. Instead, the passenger reached for a gun in the dash.
“Don’t be stupid.” Kent pulled a wad of cash from his pocket and threw it on the front seat. “Take it and have a good morning.”
The passenger looked, swiped the whole of it and did a rolling tuck out of the door, cash in hand. Good man.
The driver yelled and reached for the loose gun.
“Well, we can’t have that. You should have gone for the money.” Kent punched away the rest of the window and climbed through, kicking the gun away as he slid into the cabin.
The driver pulled out a knife, swinging wildly with one hand and driving haphazardly with the other. Kent’s knowledge of South Asia languages was limited to, well, zero, but he’d been willing to negotiate until the sounds of a struggle came to life in his ear. Elena!
Kent pointed his gun at the driver’s temple. “Stop the damned car.”
Certain things didn’t require much translation. Brakes squealed and the driver pulled into a cutoff. Kent waved toward the door with his gun. The smuggler scampered away.
As he reached to close the door, a searing pain careened through his shoulder like a hot poker. Blood warmed his chest. He ducked, grabbed his gun, and fired out the window toward the man who’d shot him.
No return fire.
Kent peered around the side of the truck to discover the man retreating up the mountain. And up to Elena.
Dizzy with pain and worry, Kent damn near fell out of the vehicle. Despite the searing wound, he summoned the strength of his brother and ran to save his Elena.
*****
Elena tried calling for Kent again, but Xiàng’s heavy boot to her chest knocked the wind out of her. She was on all fours, struggling to stand on her feet. The trafficker’s fist knocked her down. Again.
She should have shot him when she had a chance, but one of the bodyguards had thrown a bullet her way before dying. She’d shot the man to speed up his death, unfortunately giving Xiàng that one second to get the jump on her.
“I should keep you. Make good money with a one-eyed whore.”
She rolled on her back, narrowly avoiding another hit.
Kent’s voice flickered in her ear. “Talk to me, Elena. Say something. I can’t ask you out again if you’re dead.”
She tried to reassure him, but her mouth was full of blood, and only moans squeaked past her swollen lips. “Help...”
“Help?” Xiàng’s cruel laughter knotted her stomach like sour milk. He took a gun off one of his dead employees. “Sell you? Or just kill you now for costing me money? Shall I keep you for collateral until—”
Xiàng fell to the ground, screaming and writhing in pain a second before she saw the cause of it.
Kent came up the mountain, shirt stained with blood and a trail of smoke curling from the silencer on his gun. Half crawling, half slithering, she made her way toward him. All her training went to hell when he crashed to the ground a few feet away. “Kent!”
He slammed his eyes shut and punched the ground. “Just my arm. Fuckload of pain though. The bullet’s preventing more blood loss I think...”
“Shh.” With newfound energy, she scrambled to her bag and the first aid kit inside. She treated him with Celox to stop as much blood flow as possible before binding him with mountains of bandages.
“Your face. Oh, baby. What did he do to you?” Kent scrambled to his feet, even as she tried to sit him back down. “I’ll kill him.”
“You already have. See?”
Kent rubbed his eyes and winced. “I didn’t. Hell, he’s gone. C’mon Elena. We need to get out of here. Now.”
Arm in arm, they hobbled down, looking back every few feet and praying for a break. Nothing made her happier than seeing that old raggedy truck, even if she had to step over a couple of corpses along the way.
Kent sucked in air as he launched into the vehicle, but when he winked at her from the passenger’s seat, she knew they’d be okay. “We did it.”
“Oh, shit.”
“Not again.” The roar of skidding car wheels and screeching motors howled behind them. Given the steep descent, she couldn’t exactly floor it out of there.
Though it surely caused him agonizing pain to do it, Kent turned around every few seconds to peek out the window. “They’re here.”
Shots ripped around them on all sides. “Got that.”
His hand slapped the dashboard. “My extra ammo’s in the back with the crates. I’ve got five or six rounds left. You?”
“Can you take the wheel?”
Kent’s eyebrow angled heavenward. “I don’t like where this is going. Elena, generally, it’s my job to come up with bad ideas.”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures. I need you to trust me.”
“With my life.”
“Ditto. On the count of three?”
“Three.”
They moved in unison, harmonious as a poem—or given the amount of bloodshed, a Wagner opera. Over and under, they switched positions until she was in the passenger’s seat. Then, like the famous Valkyries, Elena reached for her bowstring and dipped into the back of the truck.
Glass cut her arm. A bump in the road knocked her against unforgiving wood. She grabbed hold of a crate, and splintered shards dug into her skin. Didn’t matter. Through a slice in the canvas that covered the back of the truck, Elena eyed her target. She nocked her arrow and took aim.
She trusted her weapon. She trusted her training. She trusted herself and her eye, and at the next turn, when the bastard’s tires were most exposed, she let lose her arrow.
The car behind them swirled, struggling to right itself and giving her an even better view of another tire. She aimed again, and with a smile on her face, let loose the arrow that would set her free.
— SEVENTEEN —
Kent popped more painkillers and called in for pickup after they crossed the border into India. “At least it’s over.”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Maybe? I’ve got the prize and the girl. End of conversation.” Kent leaned over and dropped feathery kisses on her forehead. “I had it wrong. The prize is the girl.”
“My prize is seeing you safe.”
“You can. Eric is already at the dock. He’ll stay with the Amber Room until the representative of the Romanov family pays and picks it up. And, uh, Logan had a thing in Hong Kong. He’s flying me to a doctor and a safe house. Your choice. I understand if you want to stay with the Amber Room and see it through.”
“My mission is complete. I’ve done my part. And I don’t know how you do things, but the Swedish Rangers never leave a man behind. Now, hush. Lean back, close your eyes, and dream of me.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Kent sagged into the seat, a wide smile on his face as his lids drifted down.
Xiàng wouldn’t forgive this. They’d robbed him out of millions, and worse, they’d embarrassed him. Another fight was coming, but they’d face it together.
Elena rolled down the window, ripped off her eye patch, and tossed it away. It flittered on the wind, waving goodbye. She waved back at it one last time, then looked ahead and waved hello to her new life.
— EPILOGUE, PART I —
Leicester Massachusetts
Five Weeks Later
Elena rolled onto the bed after another grueling day of training. This was like Ranger school but eight times worse. There were no comrades to share the misery with. This was a one-on-one h
ell, tailored just for her, and she loved every minute of it.
She had yet to meet the Dragon, other than by correspondence, but she’d been accepted by all of the other members of the team so far. Her new friends and trainers hadn’t shied away from either looking at her eye or talking about it. Quite the opposite. It was not only brought into her instruction, but built into her training and even exploited.
She eyed her new eye in the mirror and grinned. With a tap of her smart watch, Elena could record anything in view and take pictures that ran directly into Ambra’s database. She’d mentioned how cool it might be to have it able to retrieve database pictures and duplicate irises for eye-coded passwords. Eric’s face had lit like a Christmas tree at that notion, and he hoped to have a prototype soon.
“You’re so damned vain,” Kent said from the doorway, pizza box in hand. “Has Eric got your eye seeing the future yet?”
“Everything but.” She pushed—not really—Kent away while he dropped smoochy kisses around her neck. “Heard from your brother?”
“Another email. He told me that Checkers told him that you were special and that he’d beat me into oblivion if I broke your heart.”
She turned away a bit, but he wouldn’t let her, stopping her with a hand on her chin. “I told him he ought to be sending his little hate notes to you instead. You own my heart now, Elena. You’ll be careful with it, won’t you? I’m a delicate man.”
“I will. Damn...” She chuckled as she cried, but once again Kent was there to kiss every tear away.
— EPILOGUE, PART II —
Anderson sent ten more rounds into the tree trunk before holstering his gun and checking the message on his phone.
It was from her.
The woman who’d usurped his spot within the knighthood.
The woman who’d humiliated him.
The woman whose bed he’d once enjoyed.
He groaned and clicked open the assignment.
The Key to the Disc of Phaistos has been stolen. We think it’s in Macedonia. Our target is located within the highest branches of government, and your mission will be anything but easy. For that reason, you won’t be sent in alone. I will be your partner for this and before you ask, no, this isn’t up for debate. Our flight leaves in three days.
—Checkers.
“Well, shit.” Anderson grabbed his gun, reloaded, and shot until his trigger finger went numb.
—THE END—
Thank you for reading The Duke of Ambra. Visit http://mercenariesoffortune.com to learn more about the Knights and to download a FREE SERIES GUIDEBOOK.
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OTHER BOOKS BY LYN BRITTAN
MERCENARIES OF FORTUNE SERIES
The Knight of Ambra
The Sergeant of Ambra
The Duke of Ambra
The Count of Ambra (September 2015)
THE DIRTY DJINN SERIES
The Genie’s Witch
A Genie’s Love
The Cowboy Genie’s Wife
THE OUTER SETTLEMENT AGENCY SERIES
Anja’s Star
Quinn’s Quasar
Lana’s Comet
Vin’s Rules
Solia’s Moon
THE WATERS OF LONDON
The Clocks of London
The Doctor of London
ULTIMATE ESCAPE
LYDIA ROWAN
Website | Facebook | Mailing List
GENRE: Action Adventure Romance
DESCRIPTION:
A bad breakup sent Nola Bailey to Vietnam. Instead of cold cocktails and sandy beaches, she finds the irresistible Duarte Cruz and trouble. Cruz thinks she's up to no good, but if she convinces him she’s not—and dodges the flying bullets—her ultimate escape could end with love.
Turn the page to begin reading Ultimate Escape, or click here to return to this anthology’s Table of Contents.
— ONE —
How odd, Nola Bailey thought as she parked in Sidney Houston’s driveway and then walked up the tidy front steps, hugging herself tight to ward off the chill that lingered in the late-spring North Carolina air.
When the woman had invited Nola and her boyfriend Carl to dinner, she’d thought it would be another of the rowdy get-togethers Sidney was famous for. But what greeted her instead was Carl’s car parked next to Sidney’s with no other vehicles in sight. They were probably just early, which wasn’t at all out of the ordinary for Carl, especially when it came to Sidney’s parties. He and, as a consequence, Nola were often the first to arrive and the last to leave. In fact, on more than one occasion, Carl had sent her home when the hour had gotten too late for Nola. Not that she’d minded. Sidney’s parties were loud affairs, and after so many hours of trying to be social and maintain conversation, Nola was always drained and looking forward to a break.
She rang the bell, and before the chimes could finish sounding, Carl pulled the door open and let her in. Happy to enter the warm, cozy confines, Nola didn’t even question why Carl had answered the door instead of Sidney. Out of habit, she turned her cheek up for a kiss and Carl obliged, the faint brush of his lips feeling more perfunctory than usual. Also odd because Carl was always excited on party day. But he’d complained about having a long, hard week at work, so he was probably just tired.
The gold-wired frames of Carl’s glasses glinted under the soft light of Sidney’s living room, and Nola noticed the tension that pulled around his eyes. Out of the ordinary for Carl, whose warmth and friendliness had always made Nola feel comfortable and safe and was the first thing that had drawn her to him. But despite the trepidation that filled her as she looked into his brown eyes, she smiled.
“I made rum cake,” Nola said, lifting the cake plate she held.
“That’s nice, Nola. Come sit,” Carl said, placing a guiding hand on her upper arm and leading her to the kitchen table.
His voice was stilted, stiff, not the easy, breezy one she was used to. Work must have really taken a toll on Carl.
“Hi, Sidney! Is the rest of the gang on the way?” Nola asked, greeting the woman who sat at the round wood table. She tried to imbue her voice with bubbliness she didn’t feel, the kind that seemed to come naturally to Sidney. “Oh, and I made rum cake!” she added.
“Hello, Nola. Thank you. That was nice,” Sidney said, her voice the patented mix of excitement and sexiness that always reminded Nola of how dull and flat her own was in comparison, as everything about Sidney did. The woman was beautiful, sultry, lively, a rainbow next to Nola’s timid, mousy gray. But she’d always been kind, had made some tentative overtures toward friendship, so Nola pushed aside the fact that she reminded Nola of her own inadequacies and tried to be pleasant, knowing how important she was to Carl.
“Thank you for coming,” Carl said as he sat next to Sidney.
“Of course,” she responded brightly, noticing but not mentioning that Carl had bypassed the empty chair next to her. “I wouldn’t miss one of Sidney’s parties. Is the rest of the gang on the way?” she repeated, her unease intensifying for reasons she couldn’t quite place.
And while Sidney was nice, Nola was terrible at small talk, even with Carl, whom she’d been dating for seven years, and being the sole focus of attention, even for these short minutes, made her wary and nervous. That was probably it. Carl was tired, so it would be left to Nola to keep the room from descending into awkward silence, a task that she probably wasn’t up to.
“Look, Nola,” Sidney said after a long moment, reaching out to grab the hand Carl had placed on the table.
Her wariness spiked even higher at the sight of their entwined hands and was soon joined by confusion. It looked so natural, the two of them sitting together holding hands. Far more natural than she’d ever been with Carl, or anyone else for that matter.
“Nola.” Carl took over for Sidney. “There’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll just say it. Sidney an
d I are in love.”
“Hmm?” Nola said.
Sidney and Carl stared at each other and smiled, a secret, silent communication passing between them.
“I think we have been for a long time, but we just hadn’t realized it. But now”—they smiled at each other again—“now, we know this is forever.”
Nola’s brain raced to catch up with her ears, and she narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips in thought. Carl had just told her that he was in love. With someone else. She shook her head as if doing so would shake the words that were seeping into her brain loose.
“Wait. What? But I thought… I mean, we’ve been…?”
Carl looked at Nola. “I know, and I’m sorry. You’re a nice person, and I never wanted to hurt you, but me and Sidney… What can I say? It was meant to be.”
He shrugged and then looked back at Sidney, eyes shining with his affection, and Nola’s jaw dropped when he leaned over and kissed her, the desire and fondness in the exchange a thousand times more sincere than any he’d ever shown Nola.
After he’d stared in Sidney’s eyes for a few moments longer, Carl returned his gaze to Nola and Sidney followed suit.
“We wanted to do this in person. Thank you for coming,” Sidney said, standing.
This conversation was over.
Nola stood as well and followed Carl and Sidney back through the living room, the dull shock of what had transpired making her confused, slow. Carl and Sidney were in love and getting married. But surely that couldn’t be right. She and Carl had been together for years, so he couldn’t have just done what she thought he had.
Could he?
She stared at him and saw that sublime happiness on his face. It couldn’t be denied.
“Um, well. Enjoy the cake, and congratulations,” she said when she again stood on the front steps.
The closing of the front door was her response.
Nola stood on the steps, the breeze she’d been so anxious to be out of just minutes before chilling her. But she barely noticed. How could she when, in a two-minute span, her entire life had changed?
