Code Red

by Susan Elaine Mac Nicol

  Kieran shoved Max to the exit. He was pissed off at the man and even angrier with himself.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Jess had buried her pride with Robert. She’d vowed to never feel humiliated by a man again. Kieran, however, by treating her like some drug addled streetwalker, had dropped her self-worth to a new low. Yet, she had presented herself as a drunk, available woman.

  Her balance seemed a bit off after the four shots of whiskey, and she wobbled her way to the bar and waited for Adam to return. “You’re right. I need a ride home tonight.”

  He placed his hand over hers in a comforting way. “No problem. I’m closing the bar early anyway. Can you wait a half hour?”

  “Sure.” She wandered back to the booth where the two strangers had sat to clear their drinks for Adam. Max’s cane, black with a shiny brass handle, remained half on the seat and half on the floor. It looked valuable.

  She picked it up and slid her hands over the smooth surface. With a slight grin, she gripped it like a saber and yelled to Adam, “En garde.”

  He shook his head in the same way a big brother would at a younger sister. “Give it to me. I’ll see if they’re still in the parking lot.”

  “I can do it.” They didn’t frighten her. Well, Kieran didn’t. He seemed heroic, despite his inability to see the real her underneath her mask.

  She shuffled across the bar toward the front door, pretending to tap dance as she swung the cane around like a baton. Her balance was off from a combination of the shots and her too-high shoes. The three older men in the corner all clapped. She gave them an exaggerated bow, nearly toppling over in the process. Most everyone else had gone home.

  “Come back here. Those muscle-heads are bad news,” Adam called out over the bar but was halted by a patron paying a tab.

  “I’ll be fine, worrywart.” Jess lifted the cane in a salute and headed out the door.

  The parking lot contained only four cars. She saw Kieran and Max getting into a black Expedition.

  “Max!” She jogged toward the car. “You forgot your cane.” She waved it in the air, but her foot landed in a pothole and she fell forward. Her knee hit first, then both the palm of one hand and the knuckles of the other. Pain pushed the air from her lungs and tears streamed from her eyes.

  She remained on the asphalt for a few seconds until Kieran lifted her off the ground without any effort. “Are you okay?”

  His hand went under her chin, tilting her face toward his. He had amazing green eyes, even brighter with the streetlights shining toward them. She’d never seen such green eyes and stared into them until his smile broke her trance. Would that smile ever deceive a woman? She’d never know. He was one of a million people who passed through this town of four hundred and seventy-six residents, never giving it another thought after the last glimpse in their rearview mirrors.

  “Max forgot his cane.” She sniffled and rested her head on his chest, trying to hide her tears from him but knowing he’d already seen them. Heat flowed from his body into hers. Jess refused to lift her head. Maybe he’d let her remain in his warm embrace for a few minutes more before he left her cold and lonely in the parking lot.

  After a few seconds, he backed away and took the cane from her now bloody fingers. A cool breeze raced between them at their separation. He connected again, taking her hands in his to inspect the injuries. He lifted her fingers to his lips and kissed the tips. A hot jolt of something burned her insides, and she drew in a quick breath of air.

  He released her hands and flinched back slightly, his mouth open as though about to say something, but nothing came out. Had he felt it too?

  He shook his head. “You’ll be all right. Nothing a little soap, water, and a half gallon of ice cream can’t cure.”

  She tried to smile, but her lip quivered. “Mint chocolate chip?”

  “Definitely.” He dropped his mouth to the edge of her cheek, his lips only a whisper away from her ear. “Maybe we can share a pint someday—if I can manage to get away.”

  The statement drowned out the warm feelings she’d developed for this stranger. Instead, the wretched memories of Robert and his hidden wife and young daughter in the pink-and-white dress standing in front of her father’s casket flooded Jess’s brain. An able-bodied thirty-year-old, she refused to become involved in a dead-end relationship again. “I don’t wait for men. Men do as they please while expecting me to remain in this flea-sized town like a loyal dog, begging for any attention thrown in my direction.”

  “I’m not like most men.”

  A sliver of hope, a quick prayer, a need to be needed. “Prove it and stay.”

  He touched under her chin and gave a small shake of his head. “Not tonight.”

  “Like I said…” She pushed his hand away and stepped back. The pain in her hand felt good compared to his rejection.

  He returned to his car and to Max, who was leaning against the bumper, glaring in Red’s direction.

  Adam appeared behind her, standing in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. Her protector. And friend. Jess looked at Kieran and sighed. A spin around the dance floor in his arms would have made the evening definitely more pleasurable than being mauled by his friend.

  He handed the cane to Max, opened the driver side door and waved. “Take care of yourself, Red.”

  “Right back at you, handsome stranger.”

  She intended to return to the bar but froze in the oncoming headlights of a dark van. That in itself would have been nothing, but Kieran’s reaction made her heart pound.

  “Shit.” He pulled a gun from his waistband and jogged over to Max, who had remained by the Expedition. “Stay put until I give you the all clear. Do you understand?”

  Jess didn’t hear Max’s response.

  The van stopped in front of her, blinding headlights shining on Kieran and Max. Two men in suits exited and walked past her. She couldn’t make out anyone’s faces.

  The darker-haired one hollered something at Max she didn’t understand and then grabbed and pushed him toward the van.

  Kieran cursed and followed, aiming the gun at Max. “Not until I see Mark.”

  The scene was surreal. Would Kieran shoot Max? Jess didn’t know whether to run or remain. By staying frozen, her body made the decision for her. Her throat began to constrict. Should she scream, or would someone shoot her if she did?

  Adam ran up. “Get back in the bar, Jess.” He dragged her partway to the entrance to the pub, but her focus remained on Kieran.

  Two other men with very large rifles exited the van. “Change in plans,” one of them yelled over the noise of the engine with an accent similar to Max’s. “Everyone in the van.” He faced Kieran and laughed. “You won’t kill Max. Drop it.”

  The man then marched forward and placed the barrel of his rifle against Max’s ear. With two guns pointed at his head, Max stiffened and his entire body started trembling. The earlier cockiness had faded into fear.

  Kieran lowered his gun, and one of the newcomers pulled it away from him. They shoved both him and Max toward the van.

  Another big guy holding another big gun turned and pointed his weapon and flashlight at Jess and Adam. “You too.”

  “Let them walk,” Kieran yelled. “They’ve got nothing to do with this.”

  The man ignored him and stepped closer. The glaring headlights obscured her complete view, but she could make out the gun still aimed in her direction and her heart sped up until it almost exploded in her chest. No one had ever pointed a gun at her—except her cousin Randy, but that one wasn’t loaded and he was just being an ass. This guy seemed ready, willing, and able to kill.

  Adam shoved her behind him. Another man approached from the side, forcing him to choose between the attackers. He chose wrong. He moved to strike the one coming up on the side and ended up clubbed by the flashlight of the other guy. Blood sprayed from his nose, and he fell to the ground. Muffled moans sounded, and then one of the men kicked him in the face. Soon, only the soun
ds of the van engine and the shuffling of other feet could be heard.

  Jess’s throat tightened into a twisted knot that made it difficult to breathe. She tried to run to Adam, but someone lifted her up and over his shoulder. Her adrenaline kicked in and she hollered and screamed and tried to fight, but her captor didn’t even flinch as she kicked him over and over.

  Adam lay motionless on the ground. She shut her eyes to the image just before she was thrown into the van like a rag doll. Her head slammed into the other door. Pain shot through her skull from the back of her head to her eyeballs, sobering her up as sickness flooded her stomach. The van moved, and someone pulled her arms behind her back and tied her to the seat. Kieran and Max were both tied up behind her.

  She continued to scream, in case Adam could hear her and wake up and save her.

  “Shut up or you’ll be gagged,” someone said in a low gruff voice.

  She shut up. Someone covered her head with a cloth sack. She couldn’t see and now felt like she couldn’t breathe. Several men started speaking in a foreign language, probably Russian. Her head hurt like hell. She should have sat with Carter and his shoe fetish or stayed home and plotted her escape from Ohneka.

  ***

  Kieran relaxed his arms in order to prevent his twisted shoulders from cramping. Whoever had tied him up left no room to twist his hands free.

  How the hell did this get so messed up so fast?

  The mission had been to pick up Mark Weld, a CIA officer, in exchange for Max Glazkov, a fat, lazy Russian operative who didn’t care which side he worked for as long as he had food and an available woman, consent not necessary. Mark had been caught a year ago leaking the names of Russian dissidents arrested by the Kremlin to the Western press from his apartment in Moscow. His arrest had stayed out of the news, but massive efforts had been made by the US government to free him. Unfortunately, Kieran hadn’t seen Mark in the van before they’d covered his head with the hood. He had, however, caught a glimpse of Red struggling against one of the men handling the exchange.

  Not an exchange. A kidnapping.

  Kieran had run seven of these operations successfully. This would have been his last before retiring. Now, not only would he fail to bring the US officer home, he’d involved an innocent woman and a bartender who appeared to be seriously injured or dead. Where the hell was his backup team? They were supposed to follow in an unmarked car to provide support. The mission from the minute Red entered the bar was FUBAR.

  One of the men called to Max in Russian, “Welcome back, Glazkov. Are you ready to begin working again, or do you need more of a vacation while we fix your mistakes?”

  “I have missed you, too, Kozar.” Max sounded nervous. No way would he want to be repatriated via a scandal. If the two governments became embroiled in an argument over the proper method of extraction, Max could only lose.

  “You will be debriefed before the flight home. I think your time with us has ended. Did you know your codename is ‘Useless’?”

  Max didn’t respond. Retirement for someone who’d spent twenty years infiltrating every department of a major defense contractor generally involved a wooden casket in lieu of a gold watch.

  Kieran couldn’t hear Red and hoped she remained calm and silent. They had no real reason to keep her but wouldn’t let her walk away if she learned too much.

  He closed his covered eyes and listened, understanding everything the men said in Russian though he had never shared his knowledge of the language with anyone outside the agency. Even his ex-wife had been oblivious to his ability. Keeping secrets was his job—and the reason he wanted to leave it. Lies destroyed those around him and ate at his own soul as well. If it wasn’t for the people he’d helped along the way, he’d have quit years ago.

  So far he had learned the names of three of his captors, Dmitriyev, Kozar, and Tim, perhaps short for Timoshkin. The driver hadn’t spoken, and no one spoke to him. The name he recognized was Dmitriyev, a brilliant assassin trained and owned by the FSB, a counterintelligence group out of Moscow. No one could describe the man’s appearance; no one had ever seen him. If he was truly in the van, Max was a dead man and Kieran and Red might be dead soon as well.

  The van had been traveling on the main highway for a while—Kieran was unsure how long—then turned left down a dirt road. When it stopped, three doors opened. He heard the Russians including Max leave, shutting the doors behind them.

  He waited for a few minutes and then spoke.

  “Are you all right, Red?” He could hear her slow, shallow breaths. “Red?”

  “I’m okay, but Adam’s hurt. Really bad. It’s all my fault.” Her voice trembled. “Maybe he’s dead.”

  “Even a small head wound can bleed like a river. He’ll be fine. Try to remain calm. They should realize you have nothing to do with this soon. They’ll let you go.”

  He hoped.

  “Who are they?”

  “You don’t need to know anything except that they want Max, not you.”

  “Why did they take you?”

  “I have no idea.” He honestly didn’t have a clue why they’d taken Red or him. Something had to have happened with Mark, but so far, no one had mentioned Mark’s name.

  “Who are you?” Red whispered before short sobs escaped her throat.

  “Kieran Brody. And you are?”

  “Jessica Wonder.”

  “Wonder?”

  “Yes, it’s a ridiculous last name, but it’s all I have left of my parents.” She broke down again, and her breathing became punctuated by sniffling and hiccups.

  For a second, Kieran transformed the woman’s name to Jessica Brody. It would have been a nice thought if they weren’t tied up and seconds from meeting an assassin. Focus or die. The sobbing Jess in front of him was a liability. The men who had taken her would most likely shoot her to restore peace and quiet. Red—or at least her feisty personality from the bar—would have a better chance of survival.

  “I don’t know. It seems like a nice last name,” he said. “Sure suits you. Since we’ve met, I’ve been wondering why you’re so self-destructive.”

  Her trembling voice steadied. “Self-destructive?”

  “Throwing yourself at Max when he looks like a serial killer. You should have sat on my lap. I understand how to treat a lady.”

  She stopped talking, but Kieran could hear her inhalations. Slower, more stable. She needed fire inside of her to eradicate the fear.

  He continued, “I guess you didn’t think a guy like me would be interested in someone like yourself.”

  “A guy like you?” Her anger grew, and the sobs stopped. “What are you talking about?”

  “I don’t like to brag, but I usually have a woman eating out of my palm within minutes of meeting her. I must intimidate you.”

  “No one intimidates me,” Red growled.

  Such bravado. Kieran had to bite his lip to stop from laughing with satisfaction. “Good. When these guys return, they may take off the eye covers. If they do, I need you to focus on me at all times. If I smile, you smile. If I remain silent, so do you. Understand?”

  “Why?”

  “Just do it. If I wink at you, you act like my girlfriend. Not my prostitute.”

  Her voice hardened “I am not—”

  “Exactly. If I frown at you, keep your distance. I haven’t seen their intentions yet, and I’m not sure which way will help you more. Just follow my instructions and you should be fine.”

  The door opened again, and Kieran heard someone talking about Mark and an accident. Which meant Mark was dead. They didn’t have anyone to trade, so they’d grabbed Max, panicked, and taken him and Red as well.

  They lifted off his hood, and Kieran could see the back of Red’s fiery hair. Two men untied them and pushed them into an old barn. The barn was empty except for some bales of moldy hay and two long wooden benches. He and Red were tied to a post next to each other on one of the bales.

  Max sat on a bench being questioned by someone.
Dmitriyev. The man never lowered his voice, and Kieran listened. The frequent assumption that stupid Americans know only one language had helped him become one of the more successful negotiators in the field. He listened to the Russians speaking and finally understood why he’d been taken.

  “Weld is dead, so we cannot make a transfer, and you, my friend, have outlasted your utility to the organization.”

  “I’ll get you any information you need.” Max sounded panicked. He should be. He sucked at his job.

  “You don’t understand two things, Glazkov.” Dmitriyev dropped his voice enough that the other Russians in the room probably couldn’t hear him. “One, you’ve already been replaced. And two, once I collect on your death, I’m headed south to Venezuela. I prefer beaches and beautiful women to cold climates and dusty office buildings. Everything’s set.”

  Kieran saw the assassin point his gun at Max then, so he curled his torso into Red’s and kissed her. She appeared shocked but kissed him back with only a slight hesitation. Kieran didn’t stop. He deepened the kiss and didn’t allow her to break for air. She gasped and tried to pull away but he persisted. Then he heard the shot.

  Red flinched. Kieran kept kissing her, partly to hide Max’s assassination from her for as long as possible, partly to comfort her. And a small part of him wanted to stay absorbed in this incredible woman’s aura for a few more minutes until reality crashed down on them.

  ***

  He was kissing her. People had pointed guns at her, kidnapped her, tied her up in an old barn, and this smooth-talking guy thought now was the best time to kiss her. He must be crazy.

  His kiss, however, was amazing.

  A gunshot exploded somewhere in the barn, but Kieran’s mouth wouldn’t release hers. Jess panicked and pulled back, but his head stayed in front of hers, blocking her view of the room.

  “I guess we’ve decided you’re my girlfriend. I’m a pretty lucky guy.” His hushed voice was deep, sexy, and calm. She could also hear lots of movement and men speaking Russian in front of her.

  “What happened? There was a gunshot.”