by Cindy Dees
She looked at him quizzically for a second and then obviously caught his meaning: to do what he told her to without questioning him. “Okay,” she replied, relaxing fractionally and giving him a tiny, secret smile.
Thank God. Both of them might just make it out of here alive if she would work with him and not against him.
Two sailors horsed the heavy crate up the steps into the salon and dropped it onto the floor with a thud. Hank’s brother snapped something about watching the carpet. Was this his yacht, then? Interesting. Where did a young antiques dealer get this kind of cash? This yacht had to be worth a cool couple of million dollars.
The lid was lifted, and Remi stepped forward eagerly. “Nice,” the Russian purred.
He ought to be pleased. These were state-of-the-art assault weapons with the very latest in metal alloys, weight balancing and sighting technology. They weren’t available on the commercial market yet and were being sold to only a handful of governments.
Remi picked up one of the guns and crowed, impressed, as he lifted it to his shoulder. Ashe’s jaw clenched as the guy sighted down its length at Hank. She stiffened, as well.
“If you plan to shoot that, let’s take it outside,” Ashe barked. He released Hank, scooped up one of the guns and a pair of clips and strode out the door. The Russian followed. He moved around to the aft deck and took up a shooting stance, pointing out into the moon-touched black surface of the open bayou.
He gave a quick demonstration of handling and loading the weapon to Remi and then let rip with a controlled burst of fire. The weapon really was sweet. It was light and responsive and handled like a charm.
The Russian clicked his weapon over to full automatic and unleashed a long burst from beside him. Damn. He’d just burned through about half the firing life of that tampered-with firing pin.
Remi turned fast, aiming the weapon at Ashe’s chest from a range of about six feet. “You are a man of your word, Mr. Konig. Thank you for giving me these excellent guns.”
“I’m not exactly giving them to you. They do not come cheaply, given their newness and difficulty of procurement.”
“Ahh, but you see, I am not going to pay you for them. You are going to hand them over to me free of charge.”
Ashe mentally cursed. Here came the attempted double cross. Which was unfortunate. He’d really hoped to get out of this meeting without bloodshed. “And why am I going to do that, my friend?”
“Because I will kill you and your little whore if you do not.”
Dammit. All hell was going to break loose any second, and he still had not determined whether or not Hank’s brother was a kill or no-kill target. Ashe whipped to his right to face Max and bit out fast and low in English, “Are you willing to die beside this scumbag, or do you want to live?”
Ashe wasn’t so interested in how Max answered. He needed to look into the man’s eyes as he gave his answer. To see the truth or lie in his words.
Max’s stare never left his. “Of course I am willing to die beside my family.”
Family. Hank. He was declaring himself to be on Ashe and Hank’s side, not Remi’s.
“I stand beside my friends, always,” Max added defiantly in Russian. Posture too stiff, delivery working too hard to be convincing. The guy was lying about standing beside his Russian friends.
“Message received, loud and clear,” Ashe replied grimly, meeting Max’s intent stare with one of his own. Without breaking eye contact, he tossed his automatic weapon to Hank’s brother and jumped at one of Remi’s thugs. He dived behind the guy just as a burst of gunfire erupted behind him. The big bodyguard slammed backward into Ashe, almost knocking him over the railing. The thug sagged, his legs slowly collapsing. Ashe grabbed him under the armpits and heaved him up and forward into the other bodyguard on deck.
As the shot man fell forward, Ashe spotted the holster tucked in the back of the guy’s belt and snatched out the handgun there.
Recognizing the shape of a Makarov pistol, he flipped off the safety with his thumb, turned and dropped to one knee and double-tapped two shots into Remi’s torso. The Russian grunted but smiled wolfishly.
Dammit. Remi was wearing a bullet-resistant vest.
He dived and rolled as Remi fired back. Fiberglass shattered over Ashe’s head as he spotted something big and dark leaping toward him. Vitaly landed on him in a tackle a professional football lineman would be proud of. Ashe’s breath was knocked out of him as Vitaly’s hands closed around his neck.
“Run, Hank!” he forced out with the last air in his lungs as Vitaly’s fingers clamped down on his larynx and made further speech impossible.
Although Vitaly had no doubt intended to play the hero by immobilizing Ashe, the man effectively was acting as a human shield, and thankfully, Remi didn’t seem prepared to shoot Vitaly full of lead. Ashe got his hands up in between Vitaly’s forearms and commenced prying at them. Vitaly’s death grip eased enough for Ashe to drag a tiny bit of oxygen into his lungs, but he was far from out of the woods.
They rolled over and over across the deck as they wrestled. Past Vitaly’s shoulder, Ashe spied Max grimly pointing the automatic rifle at the two of them. He could only pray the guy was as good a shot as his little sister.
Ashe heard Perriman call tersely in his ear, “Operative down. Two hostages to extract. Green light. Go, go, go!”
A cluster of Remi’s thugs surged out onto the deck, no doubt in response to the gunshots and shouting. They only added to the chaos, further robbing Remi and Max of clean shots.
Vitaly heaved, flipping Ashe onto his side. The bastard was obviously a trained wrestler, and the slick move was irresistible. Vitaly shifted his grip, wrapping his forearm across Ashe’s throat with shocking strength. The good news was that Ashe knew how to twist to the side and free up his airway and blood vessels to his brain within that grip.
From his awkward position with his face smashed against the bottom rail of the deck, Ashe saw a dozen dark, wet-suited shapes rise up silently out of the black water around the yacht. They were arguably the prettiest sight he’d ever seen. Rubber-coated grappling hooks hit the edges of the deck with quiet thuds, and the SEAL assault team shimmied up the sides of the yacht with acrobatic dexterity.
Max was shouting conflicting orders behind him in a mixture of Russian and English that added exponentially to the confusion. Dammit, Ashe needed Max to get Hank out of here before a stray bullet hit her!
Ashe managed to tear Vitaly’s arm away and shouted, “Go, Max!”
He jabbed backward over his shoulder toward where Vitaly’s eyes should be.
The first SEAL rolled aboard the deck, firing as he came. Vitaly swore in his ear and jumped up, abruptly freeing Ashe.
He leaped to his feet, looking around frantically while he gasped for air. Where the hell was Hank?
Chapter 20
Hank slapped a hand over her mouth as Vitaly and Ashe fought furiously with one another, evenly matched, both big, strong men and both lethally trained. Remi and Max both shouted, darting around the deck in an effort to get a clean shot at the grappling men.
Remi made a sound of satisfaction as he moved past her, raising his weapon to his shoulder like he had the shot he was looking for. Vitaly had Ashe pinned up against the railing, and Remi would safely be able to shoot Ashe in Vitaly’s arms.
She lurched forward, slamming her shoulder into Remi’s back, knocking him off balance. A spray of bullets shot skyward from his gun. The Russian swore violently and half turned toward her.
But Max grabbed her arm and yanked her behind him, shouting at Remi to keep his attention on the real target.
Remi turned back toward Vitaly and Ashe just as Vitaly let go and rolled to his feet all in one fast move. For just a second, Vitaly blocked Ashe from Remi’s view, and in that instant, Ashe also gained his feet.
She screamed as a dark shadow materialized beside her. Man-sized, it looked like the Creature from the Black Lagoon: slick, wet, black, and with eyes that bugge
d out abnormally far.
She’d just registered the shape as a human wearing some sort of goggles when Max all but pulled her arm out of its socket. “C’mon, sis,” he yelled at her over a deafening fusillade of bullets.
“Stay down and run!” Max shouted.
“No! I’m not leaving Ashe!”
“You’ll both die!”
A moment of clarity washed over her. It was as if for that instant, time stopped while her mind turned over Max’s words. Absorbed them, accepted them, and become one with them. If Ashe died, she would die, too. And that was how it was supposed to be. She didn’t want to live without him, and she definitely couldn’t live with his blood on her hands. The two of them were an all-or-nothing proposition.
“So be it!” she shouted back with calm that stunned her.
Max swore and turned around, searching the chaotic melee of wet-suit-clad invaders and Remi’s thugs. She looked desperately for Ashe’s beloved familiar face, his silhouette, anything to spot him.
Remi’s men were figuring out that they’d been attacked by a vastly superior force and were starting to scatter. Some dived overboard. Others ran for the salon. Some jumped over the railing to the walkway on the lower deck.
“There!” Hank yelled, pointing at two men tearing down the dock toward shore at a dead run. Ashe was chasing someone. Relief that he was alive and unhurt roared through her.
One of the wet-suited men came up beside her and Max. “Come with me, now.”
“Who are you?” she demanded. The last thing she wanted to do was jump out of the pan, into the fire. Who were these new attackers? Friends of Ashe’s? Enemies of Remi’s?
“Ashe sends his regards to both of you. Move out.”
His tone of command left no room for discussion. Was that Ashe’s boss, Commander Perriman? It was impossible to tell in the dark and chaos. Two more men joined him, and they hustled Max and Hank down the side of the yacht by way of a ladder that dropped them onto the pier.
Their wet-suited rescuers took off running, dragging both of them down the dock.
A boat motor roared a half dozen slips away, startling Hank badly. All three men spun and brandished weapons slung from wide webbing straps over their shoulders. Interestingly enough, Max did the same by reflex, as well.
A man wearing civilian clothes peeled away from the shadows ahead of them and sprinted back toward them. All four guns came to bear on him with lethal intent. One of the rescuers bit out, “Stand down. It’s Hollywood.”
“Don’t shoot him, Max!” she cried out. Her brother wouldn’t know Ashe’s Special Forces nickname. Obviously, these men who called him by the moniker worked with Ashe.
Max’s rifle tip swung up sharply toward the black sky.
Hank flung herself forward, not stopping until she slammed into Ashe and wrapped her arms around him like she was never going to let go.
“Ship secure?” Ashe bit out over her shoulder at someone.
“Contained. Still clearing the vessel,” the leader of the rescuers retorted. “Report.”
“Vitaly’s in the boat that just took off.”
“Go get him, Hollywood.”
“Yes, sir,” Ashe declared eagerly, violence vibrating in his voice.
“I have to go back,” Max declared without warning.
Everyone turned to stare at him.
“Come again?” Ashe asked tersely.
“My name is Max Kuznetsov. I’m CIA. I’m undercover infiltrating a Russian mob outfit that I believe to be a front for an espionage operation. I have to go back in there. Arrest me. Throw me in jail. But don’t blow my cover. I’ve been building it for years.”
Hank’s brain froze, turning into a mental blue screen of blank doom. CIA? Espionage? Her brother was an undercover operative? For the United States? What. The. Hell?
“You catch that, Jennie?” Ashe demanded. “Confirm immediately.”
The scenario dragged out for what was probably only a few seconds but felt like a lifetime to Hank. Finally, the three wet-suited men and Ashe all nodded in unison, as if they’d all heard something together.
Ashe spoke to her. “Your brother’s identity is confirmed.” To Max he murmured, “You’re sure about this? It’s going to be dangerous as hell around that Remi guy for a while. He’s a nutball.”
“Tell me about it,” her brother grumbled.
The leader of the trio from the water piped up. “You ever need backup, you give us a call. We owe you one for helping get our guy and his lady out.”
Ashe’s lady? Cool.
Max stepped forward and wrapped her in a quick, hard hug.
“I may not see you again for a while, so tell me one thing. Were mom and dad spies, too?”
“Yeah. For the other side, though.”
She was startled to realize that his answer didn’t surprise her at all. Apparently, she’d known it for a long time and just been unwilling to consciously acknowledge what had been staring her in the face all along. Her family had been Russian spies.
“You’re not a double agent are you?” she blurted in sudden horror.
“No.” He laughed. “I swear, I’m mom-and-apple-pie American through and through. I’m one of the good guys.”
She hugged him tightly and he hugged her back.
“Love you, sis. You chose a good man. Take care of him.” Over her head he growled at Ashe, “And you take care of her, or you’ll have me to answer to.”
Ashe answered grimly, “She’s not going anywhere without me plastered to her side for a good long time. I’ll protect her with my life, man.”
Max’s arms loosened. He started to step away from her. Panic erupted in Hank’s chest. She could lose him again. This might be the last time she ever saw him. “Call me, you idiot. If you go incommunicado on me again, I’m going to hunt you down and have Ashe kick your butt.”
“You got it, kid.”
And then he was gone. Two of the wet-suited guys slapped him in plastic zip cuffs and marched him, albeit gently, back toward the yacht.
The remaining wet-suited man, who she was convinced was Commander Perriman, spoke tersely to Ashe. “Report.”
“I’ve got two loose ends to wrap up, sir. I’ll meet you back at the naval air station. Take Hank and keep her there this time—”
“No way,” she declared forcefully. “I’m not leaving your side.”
Ashe and his boss, the second man, traded a long look that spoke volumes. Perriman finally nodded and said, “Go.”
Ashe grabbed her hand and took off running, with Hank following along as best she could. “Where are we going?” she gasped as he raced toward a gigantic cigarette boat.
“Strap in.”
She did as Ashe ordered while he powered up the twin engines and backed the boat out of the slip. He cleared the dock and opened up the throttles. To say the boat took off like a bullet didn’t begin to describe the speed and power of the vessel. She actually had trouble drawing breath, the wind was whipping past her so fast.
They hit the open water of the bayou and then the boat really flew.
“So! You wanna tell me why you took off like that?” Ashe shouted at her.
“You seriously want to have this conversation now?” she shouted back.
“The conversation I really want to have is the one where you tell me why you lied to me about your past and your family and kept so much from me!”
“I didn’t know they were spies. Not until just now when Max confirmed it!”
“But you knew they weren’t a normal family. You knew they had secrets! Why didn’t you trust me enough to tell me?”
She couldn’t believe they were shouting back and forth like this about something so important. Although, honestly, it felt good to shout about it. “I was taught my whole life to be private and not to trust strangers! Why can’t you understand that I was terrified for my brother and not sure who you were?”
“After I told you exactly who I was, you still didn’t come clean with me! We
re you just using me to get to your brother?”
She winced. She could see where he might think that. “No!” she shouted. “I love you, dammit!”
“You sure about that?” he yelled back.
“Yes!”
He fell silent. The roar of the engines became so deafening she couldn’t stand it anymore.
At the top of her lungs, she shouted, “Look, Ashe. I’m sorry. I should have told you everything sooner. I knew you’d be mad when you found out I lied to you and withheld information from you. And I don’t blame you. But please understand that it had nothing to do with you or with me not trusting you. It was my problem. I couldn’t trust an outsider. And by the time I thought of you as family, it was too late. I’d already hidden a bunch of stuff and couldn’t go back and change it.”
In response to her very loud apology, he merely glanced over at her grimly and then turned his attention back to steering the boat. He had to believe her! She was—admittedly belatedly—being completely honest with him.
She started to reach over to him, but another boat came into sight ahead of them, also moving fast.
Ashe picked up the boat’s radio transmitter and called into it, “Target acquired.”
Frowning, she squinted into the darkness ahead. A lone man was hunched over the controls of a powerboat in front of them.
“Take the wheel!” Ashe shouted to her.
Her? Drive this beast? Was he crazy?
Ashe gestured to her to take his place. He stood up and moved behind the pilot’s seat, keeping his hands on the steering wheel. She slipped under his arms and put her hands on the wheel below his.
His lips brushed her ear as he yelled to be heard, and she jumped about a foot out of the seat in her nervousness. “Keep the boat steady and straight. Stay inside his wake and run right up his tail.”
“What are you going to be doing?”
“Killing your boss.”
She started to look at Ashe, but he snapped, “Keep your eyes on that boat. I’ll be back.”
His arms fell away from her. Oh, God. She was driving a boat at one hundred ten miles per hour, if the speedometer in the instrument panel was to be believed.
