Ky (In the Company of Snipers Book 13)

by Irish Winters

  “I’m not worried about me, Boss. Send someone to intercept Zaroyin before he gets away. Save Eden.”

  “Plan on it,” Alex said. “There’s a Snow-Cat waiting for you when you land, courtesy of the Mounties. They’ll get you to Thunder Bay where Rory and Taylor are on stand-by. They’ll accompany you home.”

  “Copy that. Keep me apprised.”

  “Will do. Fly safe.” Alex disconnected.

  More like fall safe. Ky’s ears popped at the gradual change in altitude.

  “ETA in twenty seconds,” TEAMshield informed him.

  Ky bent his knees as the Nighthawk drone began its descent. He braced for impact with a tree. A house. Anything that might jump out at him in the murky weather.

  “Five. Four. Three. Two. One.”

  The articulate ruler of the midnight sky drifted parallel to the ground at a good five or six feet before it cut the ballast free and released him. While the balloon drifted skyward, he dropped to his boots and rolled, his arms and shoulders tucked in tight.

  Overall, it was a smooth landing. He came to a stop on his butt, thankful to be on the ground again as he took in the snowy scene. Whoever operated the remote control had successfully deposited him alongside the runway of a one-plane town. No hangars. No terminal. Just a long stretch of concrete. So, so close. He could’ve ended up as one long skid mark on the tarmac if that person had so much as sneezed or miscalculated.

  “Thank you for flying with the Nighthawk team, Junior Agent Winchester,” Mother’s disembodied voice whispered into his earpiece. “I hope you’ll fly Nighthawk air with us again soon.”

  “Mother? I should’ve known it was you guiding me home,” Ky replied as he climbed to his feet, unscathed. And not Alex. “Good landing. I owe you one. Thanks for not letting the drone miss the tether on that hot-air balloon, either.”

  “It’s called a bladder, Ky, and it’s made of one of the toughest, most resilient materials…”

  Ky let her ramble without really listening. He dusted his butt and jacket, took his goggles off. She liked people to think she knew more than they did. Maybe she did. She wasn’t up here in frigid Ontario, Canada, was she?

  “Zaroyin’s pilot just made a course correction, Ky,” Mother informed. “He’s headed south toward Boston and losing air speed. Ember’s checking all private runways in the area. We’ll have more definite intel soon. By the time you leave Thunder Bay, you’ll know precisely where to go. Stand by.”

  “Copy that.” Ember was working this op, too? Mother’s topnotch techie assistant? Good deal. Things were looking up. Who didn’t like Ember? The woman was easy on the eyes. Drop-dead gorgeous. Ex-Navy and happily married to Rory Dennison, one of the two agents waiting on Ky in Thunder Bay.

  He stopped thinking about home and peered through the falling snow at the hefty vehicle rumbling toward him. Snow-Cat nothing. This relic was old, diesel-driven, and a state-of-the-art godsend with four, not the standard two articulating tracks. It would get him to Thunder Bay in no time.

  “Get onboard,” Alex rumbled in his ear. “You’ve still got work to do.”

  “Copy that.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  It took three hours to get to the airfield in Thunder Bay. By then, Ky was fit to be tied. He joined Rory Dennison and Taylor Armstrong at the only aircraft in sight, a two-winged bush plane that had seen better days.

  “You look like shit,” Rory said with a lopsided grin. Man, the guy had perfect teeth.

  “Feel like it,” Ky acknowledged. “Haven’t slept since we touched down. Who’s flying this deathtrap?”

  “That’d be me,” a guy in brown Carhartt winter coveralls, a knitted beanie, and dark glasses replied, “and it ain’t a deathtrap. This here’s Bessie. Man’s best friend. I’m Marlin Carter, the guy who keeps her warmed up and ready to go on a moment’s notice. You’re the one these guys been waiting for?”

  “Yes, sir,” Ky admitted, rolling his shoulder, “but before we go anywhere, I’ve got to ask you a favor. It’s going to sound crazy, but would you mind taking your cover off?”

  Rory and Taylor came to a dead stop at that bizarre request.

  Marlin’s nose wrinkled. “Why should I?”

  Yeah, this was awkward, but Ky wouldn’t take chances. “Trust me. I need to see the back of your head, maybe feel your scalp behind your ears. The last pilot I know had a device implanted under his scalp. It got him killed. He died of a heart attack. Would you mind?”

  Marlin growled, but tugged his headgear off and twisted his neck so Ky could get a good look.

  Ky stepped closer, searching for a dime-sized bump. Nothing. Satisfied that Marlin was not another drone under Zaroyin’s evil influence, he clapped one gloved hand to the affable fellow’s shoulder. “Sorry, sir. It’s been a helluva few days. I just needed to be sure you were who you said you were. Thanks for cooperating.”

  “That’s alright,” the older guy muttered as he replaced his headgear. “I’ve seen crazier folks than you.”

  Taylor thumped Ky’s bicep with his fist like guys were prone to do. Tall and straight as an arrow, his bronzed skin and black hair belied his Native American heritage. The guy was as stoic as Tate, but easy-going. “You ready to get out of here?”

  Ky jolted to a dead standstill. He stared down where Taylor’s gloved knuckles rested against his bicep. No panic. No burning sensation, either.

  Taylor pulled back. “Sorry, man. It was good to see you, and shit, I forgot. My bad.”

  “No. I’m, umm, good,” Ky answered quickly. “It’s okay. Really. It felt kind of weird for a second there, but it... it didn’t hurt.”

  “You sure?” Rory asked, his dark blue eyes bright with surprise.

  Ky caught the genuine disbelief on his buddies’ faces. “Yeah. Weird, huh? It’s gone. I couldn’t be better. I guess I’ve been a real ass to work with, huh?”

  “No,” Taylor declared, his fingers gripping Ky’s forearm, pulling him close, “but this has been a long time coming, brother. Seem this op’s been good for you.”

  Ky nodded, swamped with the peculiar sense of relief. He took in a long, deep breath. Smiled. Wiped the tear out of the corner of his eye before he made a fool of himself. Thumped Taylor’s bicep a good one in return, then wiped his eye again. God, it took all he had not to bawl like a kid. He’d never thought this day would come. Nizari’s hold on him was no friggin’ more.

  He sucked his lower lip in, biting it hard before he fell apart in front of his friends. “Let’s get this done, guys,” he said hoarsely, his heart swelled up in his throat. “I’ve got a woman to save.”

  “Do you know what this means, Ky?” Rory asked. “Kegger at my place when we get home. Tackle football. The whole TEAM. Plan on it.”

  “And Gracie can finally hug the stuffing out of you,” Taylor chimed in. Gracie, his wife, was a hugger.

  “Ember’s been dying for this day,” Rory added. Another hugger.

  “Wait ’til Alex finds out.” Taylor fist pumped. “You did it, Ky. You beat that rat-bastard Nizari.”

  “Hell, wait until Lee finds out,” Rory said quietly, his hands on his hips.

  Ky got stuck on the tender light in his teammates’ eyes. The pride. The brotherhood. Lee would be proud. He’d been Ky’s advocate since those first few minutes on the floor of a putrid cell a half-world away. He’d never doubted Ky would overcome the crap he’d survived at Nizari’s hand. Just gave him what he’d needed to keep on keeping on. A shoulder to rest on. A knife to defend himself with. The love of a brother...

  Alex, too. He’d hired a broken-down Marine sight unseen. Gave him a damned hard job and a place to belong. Gave him a hand up. Somewhere to belong. A home.

  Shit. Ky squeezed the bridge of his nose and shook the tender feelings off. He had a woman to save, but damn it to hell. Emotion climbed up his throat. He’d waited a long time for this day. He was free. Nizari’s hold on him was no more. And all because of a tenacious woman with pretty green eyes who
’d poured love into the battered husk of a man with no hope of living. She’d given all she had to give to him, a mess of a man, until their psychic connection was lost. Eden. And now she was the lost one.

  Ky took a deep breath of icy air and blew it out. He needed her there, in his arms, hugging the stuffing out of him. “Let’s go, guys,” he said determinedly. It was his turn to save her.

  It took them a few tense moments to get the turbo-charged Beechcraft up in the air, as bad as the weather was, but Marlin did good. After the propellers lifted out of the clouds, they had nothing but sunshine smiling on them.

  Like a fool, Ky craned to catch a glimpse of Zaroyin’s chopper somewhere ahead. No deal. It was a stupid notion. Eden had to be miles ahead of him. They touched down to refuel a couple of times at out-of-the-way and mostly deserted airstrips, but by noon, the Atlantic lay off the nose of the plane.

  Ky dialed Mother via TEAMshield. “Any news?”

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Fine. Any news?”

  She got the point. “They stopped in Bangor, Maine, a while ago, maybe to refuel or eat. Right now, they’re south of Boston, losing airspeed. I’ll let you know which airfield they land at. Senator Bick and his wife own some property in that area. A couple of warehouses.”

  “Why?”

  “Not sure. Ember’s digging into that one. One of us will ring you the second we know more.”

  “Thanks, Mother.” Ky disconnected. If Zaroyin’s drone factory was in Canada, why did a United States senator need warehouses in Boston?

  McCluskey doffed his helmet and stood in the cockpit, poised for trouble. He was a redhead. Crew-cut. His right hand rested on his BFG, as in the big fucking gun nestled in his holster, its safety strap flipped open. Snap, the guy was built like a wall and ready to charge. Make that tackle. His tree trunk legs were spread, his knees bent. His hulking body filled the narrow aisle between Eden and Zaroyin’s seat. What’d he need a gun for?

  “Time to move, princess.” He extended his gloved left hand to help her to her feet or throw her over his shoulder, Eden wasn’t sure which.

  She declined the offer, not wanting to touch the behemoth’s ugly mitt. Her second sight might kick in at the contact, and Eden did not want to know what went on inside that big, square head. She slapped her coat pockets, automatically looking for her pistol that wasn’t there. Old habits died hard, but something was in her right pocket. Something solid. Plastic-handled. Down deep where she hadn’t noticed it before. Definitely not a tube of lipstick.

  She slid her fingers between the folds of some poor dead animals and wrapped them around what felt like the grip of a gun. Eden borrowed one of Tucker’s favorite words again. Shit. A taser! The safety cover on the business end was missing, which meant the weapon could be fired the second she pressed the trigger. When she did, an arc of electricity would drop tough-guy McCluskey to his knees before he knew what hit him. He’d be reduced to a drooling moron crying for his mommy.

  Eden licked her bottom lip at the shift in power. She cast a furtive glance at the doctor. Had he stashed the weapon in advance or someone else? Was that why he’d wanted her dressed to the nines? Was he the one who’d ensured the safety was off? She couldn’t catch his eye. He was busy brushing some miniscule piece of lint off his trench coat.

  “I said move,” McCluskey growled. “You go first.”

  “I am moving,” Eden replied, intending to put on a show for this jock if only to prove her point. He only thought he was in charge. Ha.

  Being dressed in this silly coat and boots didn’t feel so wrong anymore. She lifted out of her seat and balanced on her ridiculously high heels. Her ankles buckled, but she righted herself. If other women could do it, so could she. Releasing her grip from the seatback in front of her, she ran a hand through her thick hair and twisted her shoulders from side to side. Men liked long hair, and she intended to give McCluskey an eyeful. He needed to be watching her when she finally let him have it.

  She took a full, seductive minute and str-e-t-ch-e-d every last tired muscle in her stiff body, making sure the front of the coat fell open enough to reveal her full cleavage. Zaroyin, if he was the one behind this get-up, had chosen a tight fitting knit Henley with tiny buttons, the top ones undone because the shirt was too small. She wiggled two her best assets, then bent forward to touch her toes. In the process, she let her long hair sweep to the floor while she made certain her backside jutted more than usual. She’d always been a bit on the too curvy, too plump side, but she knew how to use it. There. Take that, you creep.

  Straightening with a throaty sigh and a flourish, she let he hair settle around her shoulders in a silky, tousled cascade. Eden thrust her chest forward and moaned. Right as rain, McCluskey’s all-male eyeballs gave her a quick up and down, but mostly up. Those eyes were definitely glued to her breasts when the titillating tour ended. Just like she’d wanted. His upper lip twitched, as if he stood a snowball’s chance in heck of getting any closer to her. This, big boy, is all about distraction. Nothing more.

  He lifted one brow and jerked his big square head at the exit. “Get out.”

  Silently, she did as ordered and climbed down the ladder to the tarmac of some small-town runway, careful not to stumble on her heels. McCluskey might have acted like he was unaffected, but she’d seen him run his tongue over his bottom lip. She’d seen his eyes narrow, then drop to her cleavage. Even now, she could feel his eyes on her backside as he followed with Zaroyin right behind him. He might think he had plans for her and she was willing to light him up—just not the way he expected, the jerk.

  No other planes stood parked nearby, and there was only one hangar. She sniffed and detected the pleasant fragrance of the sea in the air. “Where are we?”

  “Move it,” McCluskey ordered instead of answering.

  “But you said you had orders to bring me in. This isn’t FBI headquarters, Quantico, or Langley. Exactly where are you taking me?”

  “Stop with the bullshit, Stark. You know the Bureau doesn’t do all its business out in the open.” He stuck that chin of his at the long, brick building opposite the hangar. “Over there. Move it.”

  She had no choice but to obey, to wait for the right moment to end McCluskey. Could she do it? Yes. He wouldn’t die from a taser, but he would go down. That left Zaroyin. He had to have known about the taser. What was she supposed to do next? Run from him? Run to him? Trust him?

  Eden stopped at the hangar door to look over her shoulder. Ky was out there somewhere. She could sense him A breeze caught her hair up in a billowing fluff. Smoothing it back behind her ear, she took what might be her final breath of freedom. Whatever happened next could be her last. She projected one last thought to the man she loved with every last breath. I always loved you. Know that. Never doubt. Stay strong for me. Live.

  The hard tip of McCluskey’s gun barrel in her back ended the reverent moment. “Stop gawking and get your ass inside.”

  Ky shifted in his seat again, antsy to be on the ground and engaged in whatever the hell was going on with Eden. Ember had called with the location where the chopper had landed. Alex had agents on the way, but Ky wasn’t there. The few remaining miles of this long day galled him.

  So much could happen in covert operations. A team might start with a foolproof plan, but by the end of the game, it always turned into shit. All those unknown unknowns. Random accidents. Equipment failures or just plain stupid human error. Friendly fire. Anything could and would happen between kickoff and touchdown. Murphy’s law never took a day off.

  From a combination of the warmth blasting out of the Beechcraft heater and the nearly three days without sleep, Ky drifted into a deep slumber. Sultry green eyes sparked through the haze in his exhausted brain. Eden whispered, “I always loved you, Ky.”

  He jolted upright, his sleep ruined by the sad tremble in her voice. Loved? As in past tense? Not love? Not I’ll always love you?

  She gulped and turned the brass knob on the hangar�
��s wooden door. It opened easily. Eden stepped over the threshold and into a wide, empty room. Sunlight streamed through the array of windowpanes covering the entire east wall. Two doors broke the expansive brick wall across the dusty floor to the north.

  Again with the gun barrel in her back. “First door on the right,” McCluskey ordered, pushing her forward

  With her head held high, she stepped out smartly in front of him and took her one and only shot at a high-fashion modeling career. With her left hand on her hip, she stuck her right hand deep inside her pocket. With a flounce of her head, she lifted her chin and squared her shoulders, and hoped she wouldn’t fall off those darned high boot heels. Swishing her hips, she put her best foot forward. He needed to believe she’d go down easy. Well, guess again. She had no intention of finding out what lay beyond that door on the right.

  Suddenly, McCluskey gurgled a hissing, “Lying son-of-a-bitch...”

  Eden whirled on the desperate scene. Dr. Zaroyin, the smaller guy with a garrote wrapped tightly around McCluskey’s thick neck, stood behind the big guy while McCluskey struggled on his knees, his fingers caught between the deadly wire and his trachea. He growled and sputtered, wheezed and choked, his eyes wide and bulging. Zaroyin’s face contorted into a fierce mask, his brows slanted into deep spikes, but McCluskey was unable to break loose.

  “Get his gun,” Zaroyin hissed as the big guy twitched. Only when McCluskey slumped unconscious—or dead—did the doctor relax the wire. Blood dripped off his fingers as McCluskey fell to the dirty concrete floor.

  Eden pulled her gaze from the grisly death scene to secure McCluskey’s weapon, in shock at Zaroyin’s abrupt about-face, but willing to go along with it. “You gave me that taser, didn’t you? You’re the one who stuck it in my coat pocket. What’s really going on?”

  “They’ve got my son,” he declared angrily. “I’m supposed to deliver you to Bick and his wife next. The stupid clothes were her idea, but the coat was mine. I needed to give you a way to defend yourself. His wife wanted you dressed like her, but I’m not going through with the rest of his plan. I can’t. Hurry! That tailwind put us in early. I don’t intend to hang around here and wait for them to show.”