by Kaylea Cross
As far as he knew, the contract on Amber was now down to him and one other hitter. Both of them pros, both former military. Hence the hefty bounty offered.
She was good, Jesse mused as he studied her picture again. She was very good, but he was one of the best for a reason.
He’d managed to plant a tracker on her bike before following her to the palace. According to the app on his phone, it was currently parked eleven blocks away in a run-down residential area. Right now it was his best hope of being able to find her again.
If she hadn’t ditched the bike for something else, then she had to still be in the area. Jesse would follow her, but from a greater distance this time. He didn’t want to risk spooking her any more than he already had, because she was capable of becoming a ghost and dropping off the grid. If that happened he’d lose her, the money promised him, and the captive Valkyrie would die.
His new orders were to watch over Amber and wait until she found Hannah Miller’s location. As soon as that happened, he would step in.
Chapter Four
Hard at work gathering her latest intel, Amber froze on her bed when a baby started wailing next door, its plaintive cries coming through the plaster walls separating the small rental units. She looked up from the map she’d been studying on Lady Ada’s screen, an eerie shiver corkscrewing up her spine as she stared at the wall the cries were coming through.
She’d been trained to withstand many things, including pain and sleep deprivation, but that sound was designed to hit human beings in the primitive part of their brains that was hardwired to protect their offspring. A brief memory of SERE school flashed through her mind. Of being trapped in a wooden box while heavy metal blasted through speakers, mixed with the incessant crying of a baby.
She wasn’t claustrophobic and the dark had never bothered her. But that crying. It triggered the memory of the way Megan had cried so hysterically the day they’d been taken away from each other when they were little kids.
She compartmentalized it, shoving that memory back into the box it had come from, and tuned out the baby’s cries as best she could to focus back on the map. Last night she’d used the radio she’d stolen to monitor communication of her targets on two different frequencies. Guards talking to someone who she guessed was head of security in charge of guarding the men she’d just seen leave. And there’d been mention of captives, at least one of them female.
As far as she could tell, the head of security was escorting one of the heads of the group to a meeting with a government official in downtown Damascus today, at noon. She wanted to get eyes on to verify who the head was, and if possible, plant a transmitter on the vehicle so she could track them back to wherever they were now located.
Moving in the daylight carried extra risk. The last two times she’d ventured out, she’d been attacked.
Third time’s the charm.
Maybe this time would go off without a hitch and she would finally be able to discover whether the group had Hannah. Either way, Amber couldn’t afford to sit back and wait. She had to check out this new intel while it was still fresh, and hope for a break. If the female captive she’d heard about was Hannah, then the Valkyrie had still been alive as of last night.
Amber prayed she still was.
This time she dressed in her bike clothes: black leather pants with kneepads sewn into them, a long-sleeved T-shirt, leather jacket and riding boots. The downtown area was full of people on mopeds, scooters and the occasional motorcycle so it would be easier to blend in. She wore a headscarf to cover her hair, sunglasses, and her helmet would conceal her face as she rode.
The bike was exactly where she’d left it, and showed no signs of tampering or any bugs. She hopped on and wove her way toward the northwestern part of the city, twenty minutes before the meeting was supposed to start.
She drove past the meeting point, circled it a few times to get a good look around the area, then parked down the street from the building where the meeting was supposed to happen, and waited. Her internal radar began pinging quietly, reacting to all the people flowing around her. It made her twitchy as hell to wait out here in the open but she didn’t stand out in such a crowded place and her outfit gave her some added anonymity.
Two minutes before the meeting began, three black Escalades like the ones from last night appeared up the street. She stayed where she was, trying to get a good look inside through the visor of her helmet, but even the windshields were darkly tinted.
They pulled to the curb in front of the government building. Doors popped open and big men wearing tailored suits that no doubt disguised their shoulder holsters stepped out. They surrounded a shorter, more slightly-built man and escorted him up the steps.
Bingo. Fayez Rahman. One of the men she suspected of buying Hannah’s information from her. Former military with a vicious reputation, he now used all his previous contacts to play both sides in Syria, making deals with the government and terrorist groups, whichever was more lucrative for him.
And she’d sold Hannah to him.
Amber swallowed and pushed out a slow breath. She was here to make it right, but the guilt was unbearable, slowly eating a hole through her insides.
When the men disappeared into the building she dismounted her bike and casually removed her helmet as she strode toward the vehicles, keeping her face averted. Near the back bumper of the third one, she purposely bumped into a passer-by, apologizing as she spun and used the chance to slide the tiny micro transmitter under the bumper. It was barely larger than a grain of rice and the tiny amount of metallic components made it almost unnoticeable to metal detectors.
Mission accomplished, she continued onto the sidewalk and popped into a nearby café to make it look like it had been her destination all along. She drank a cup of mint tea and savored a pastry before leaving. But as soon as she stepped out onto the sidewalk, a telltale prickling sensation at her nape told her she was being watched.
She resisted the automatic urge to look around and kept walking, helmet under one arm as she headed toward her bike, her right hand free to go for her weapon if necessary. No one stood out to her as she scanned the people around her.
When she reached the bike she tugged on her helmet and gloves. As she swung her leg over the seat, her gaze stopped on a group of people outside a bookshop up the street, and a familiar figure behind them.
The man from last night.
He stood with his back to the wall of the shop, wearing a brown leather jacket, his arms folded across his chest. Even with the dark sunglasses shading his eyes she could feel him watching her.
Instinct kicked in.
Get out of here. Now.
She fired up the bike and shot into traffic, pulling a sharp U-turn to drive away from the man. But as she passed by the row of black Escalades, a man in a suit stepped out into the street and raised a weapon at her.
Not regular security. A hitter.
Amber swerved as he fired, already whipping out her pistol to return fire. She hit him in the neck and he dropped.
People cried out and started running, adding to the confusion. She hit the throttle, the bike’s back tire squealing against the pavement as she zipped in between rows of traffic for cover, counting on the shooter not firing through a crowd. Amber didn’t look back for him, her attention on finding a path out.
“Get down, get down!” someone was yelling.
People jumped and scattered out of the way like a flock of startled birds as she raced past vehicles and pedestrians alike. Horns blared, angry and frightened voices rising around her.
Blood pulsed in her ears as she sped down the street. A block up she glanced behind her, cursed when she saw the man in the leather jacket racing after her on another bike.
What the hell? Who was that guy? Twice now he’d found her. Last night he’d helped her and let her go. Today he was hunting her.
Thank God she wasn’t on foot or in a car. The bike allowed her to zip in and out of the slower moving traffic at wil
l. But there was congestion up ahead. She muttered a curse and shot through a crowded intersection, dodged a group of people that earned her shouts and rude gestures.
Come on, come on, she mentally chanted, searching for a clear path that would allow her to put some distance between her and the man coming after her.
She raced through a red light, the squeal of tires and crunching of metal behind her hopefully providing her with enough of a roadblock to lose her determined pursuer. But when she snuck a glance over her shoulder to check, her heart seized when she saw the guy on the bike was still coming, bent low over the handlebars and catching up fast.
Fuck this shit.
Amber leaned her weight forward and gunned it, driving as fast as she dared toward the edge of the city. There were only a handful of roads out of the city that didn’t have security checkpoints, all of them too small for cars or trucks to pass through. But bikes were another matter.
She raced for the closest one, checking behind her every few seconds. He was still there, gaining on her ever so slightly on his bike.
God, if she couldn’t shake him on the side streets, then she needed some open road to lose this asshole.
It felt like forever before she got some. As soon as she cleared the final hurdle and reached a two-lane highway, she punched it.
The bike responded with a powerful roar and ate up the asphalt beneath her. She wove her way in and out of the light traffic, heading for the hills outside the city. Her tail was still behind her. The traffic grew sparser the farther they got out of the city and the road began to grow curvy.
She dodged slower moving trucks, hugging the center lane divider. Horns blasted as she shot between a large delivery truck and an oncoming car, the force of the wind they created punching against her body.
Zipping in front of the truck as they curved sharply left, she leaned all the way over to maintain her speed, her left knee almost brushing the ground.
As soon as she cleared the turn she righted herself and stole a glance over her shoulder. Shit, he was still back there, not as close now but he definitely wasn’t giving up.
She faced forward again. Ahead, the road coiled back and forth in an endless ribbon, winding its way up the hill like a huge asphalt snake as it climbed.
Dammit, she couldn’t shake him here. And her fuel gauge was nearing the point of no return. She needed to conserve enough to return to the city and follow the convoy to the target building, because Hannah was out of time.
The guy hadn’t shot at her. Not last night, and not today, and he could have. But he was chasing her like his life depended on catching her.
There were only two logical explanations. He’d either been sent to help her—by who, she didn’t know—or capture her alive and take her to whoever had hired him. Maybe even Fayez Rahman.
Not happening.
An idea formed in the back of her brain.
It was risky. Maybe even crazy. But it was the only way to find out how much of a threat this guy was.
Her right hand twitched on the handlebar, ready to dive for her pistol. But not yet.
If she was right about this, she’d live to fight another day. If she was wrong…
This lonely mountain road would be the last thing she ever saw.
****
Damn, the woman could ride.
Jesse struggled to keep sight of her as they sped up the mountain road, going as fast as he dared while keeping the bike steady. The way she zipped in and out of traffic around these turns at this speed was borderline suicidal, yet she was somehow still in control.
Where the hell was she going? Hannah was being held southeast of the capital; he’d just received word from Trinity this morning.
He’d followed the tracking device on Amber’s bike intending to intercept her after she’d taken care of whatever she had planned in the business district earlier. But the moment she’d seen him she’d taken off like a bat out of hell before he could approach.
Then someone had shot at her.
Jesse had only caught a glimpse of the guy, more concerned about Amber. He didn’t think she’d been hit. Not the way she was riding. He couldn’t afford to let her out of his sight because if he lost her she would switch vehicles and he’d lose the ability to track her.
In the distance an old semi was struggling its way up the hill in front of her. She pulled left to the centerline and gunned it, then cut back in front and vanished around the next turn.
Jesse set his jaw. He was not losing her.
He caught up to the semi, pulled left to pass it. Another truck appeared in the oncoming lane around the turn ahead.
He muttered a curse and jerked to the right just in time as it blasted its horn. As soon as it flew past, he cut out around the semi and opened up the throttle.
The bike’s engine screamed as he floored it, the body vibrating beneath him. He damn near lost control going around the next curve, swore as he managed to right it and get it back under control.
There was nothing but open road ahead of him. Amber was gone, the road winding left and disappearing around another bend.
He leaned forward, maintaining his speed through the relative straightaway. At the start of the next curve he slowed a little, easing off the gas.
Only to come face to face with Amber, standing fifty feet away in the middle of the road with her weapon pointed right at him.
“Fuck!” He did the only thing he could: hit the brakes and swerved, dumping the bike to avoid running over her.
He landed on his side and skidded across the road, rolling over and over to try and absorb the worst of the impact.
Pain ricocheted through his body. He grunted as he finally stopped, lying on his back in a tangled heap near some boulders at the edge of the shoulder, mere feet away from where the road plunged away in a sheer cliff. The bike lay battered all to hell a stone’s throw away.
You’re not dead. Move.
He was in way too much pain to be dead. Fighting through the haze, he shoved up his visor and reached his other hand down for the weapon holstered at his hip, biting back a groan as he turned his head to find her.
She was still standing in the same spot, weapon aimed at him. Her visor was up, her alert gaze locked with his.
She lowered her arm. Took two steps toward him as if she wanted to help, then stopped. Seemed to hesitate, as though unsure what to do, before turning and rushing back to her bike.
Without a backward glance she jumped on and took off down the road, heading back where they’d come from.
Shit. Now he’d lost her. He’d bet every cent he owned that she would ditch the bike as soon as she reached the city.
Jesse lay where he was as she roared off and let the back of his helmet hit the ground. Overhead the sky was a pure, clear blue, so intense it hurt his eyes.
“Ohhh, god dammit,” he groaned, certain he’d broken every bone in his body. And maybe punctured his liver or spleen while he was at it. If not for the protection of his leather jacket and helmet, he would have left half his skin on the road.
You’re not dead, Marine. Get up.
It wasn’t easy. He hurt like a bitch and his head was fuzzy, but everything seemed to be in working order. Pain radiated down his back and sides as he struggled to his knees just as the semi came around the corner.
It locked up its brakes and skidded to a halt in front of him. The driver jumped out and rushed toward him, calling out in Arabic. “Are you okay?”
Nope. Not even close.
Jesse gritted his teeth and pushed to his feet, pissed off and impressed as hell with her at the same time. He was beat to shit and it was gonna be a long-ass drive back to Damascus.
Worse, now he had to find Amber all over again.
Chapter Five
Amber Brown was here in Damascus. She’d been in the business district this afternoon.
But now she was gone, and Yury had no idea where she was headed next.
Rage flooded his system as he holstered his p
istol and packed up his rifle in the small hotel room he’d stayed in last night. Another sleepless night in another fleabag hotel while he waited and searched for a solid lead that would give him Amber’s location.
Putting on his sunglasses, he pushed aside the exhaustion and stepped out into the hot afternoon sunshine as he made a call to his contact. A situation had unfolded today that might have far reaching consequences for his mission. “It’s me,” he said in Russian. “What have you heard?”
“He’s dead. Died on the operating table an hour ago.”
Yury let out an irritated growl. Dammit. He’d received reports that one of the men he’d hired had been involved in a gun battle with Amber outside a government building earlier. Last Yury had heard, the man had been severely wounded and transported to the hospital via ambulance. Now only one hitter remained to bring him Amber Brown.
Cordova.
Yury got into his rental car and cranked the air conditioning. He hated it here. The heat. The dust. It reminded him too much of the hellholes he’d fought in and lost friends in before. “Are all the bullets from the same weapon?”
“The autopsy won’t be done for days yet. Ballistics reports won’t be available for a week or more after that. Does it matter?”
“No.” The hitter was dead. Whether it was by Amber’s weapon or someone else’s was irrelevant. Though it interested him to know if anyone else had shot him as well. For instance, the man reportedly chasing Amber on another motorcycle when the shooting happened. “Have there been any sightings of her?”
“She was spotted heading northwest out of the city. Nothing else since.”
“What about the guy chasing her?” Had to be Jesse Cordova.
They had never met in person. Yury only knew him by reputation, and it was a formidable one. If anyone could capture Amber for him, it was Cordova.
“Haven’t heard anything about him,” his contact said. Yury could hear others talking and laughing in the background. A team of Russian special operators at a secure base inside Damascus. Then the man lowered his voice. “But I did hear a rumor from our Syrian friends concerning a group they do business with. He said they’ve got female captives. Americans.”
