Crossfire (Book 1) (The Omega Group) (12 page)

Grainger was crouched down below the overhanging branches of
a huge orange tree in the front yard of a house that was two doors down from
his target. His binoculars were trained on the windows in the front and
sidewalls of the presumed safe house, alternating between them. Although the
landscaping obstructed his view, he couldn’t risk getting any closer. He knew,
if it was truly an Omega Group safe house he was looking at, there would be a
serious security system protecting it.

It only took a few minutes for him to ascertain that there
were at least ten people inside, but he was not yet able to determine their
identities. The windows had sheers pulled across, allowing the images of each
person to be seen, but no detail. Although he felt confident in his suspicion
that this house was where the girl had been taken, he needed proof before
passing that information on to Daedric. He had to be one hundred percent sure,
as the consequences of another mistake were unthinkable.

Silently moving away from his hiding place, Grainger made
his way to the back of the house in search of a better vantage point. The
landscaping was even denser in the back than it was out front, so he had no
choice but to move closer. Using the vegetation as cover, he closed the
distance between the two properties, all the while scanning the target house
with his binoculars. It had been quiet inside for the last thirty minutes, with
everyone retiring for the night. Getting a positive I.D. would be more difficult,
but he had no choice.

As he rounded a large magnolia tree, he caught a glimpse of
movement in one of the rear windows of the safe house. Training his binoculars
on the source, he watched as a man in his early to mid-twenties stood, staring
out at the beach in the distance. He was talking to someone that stood just out
of view. Having no other option, Grainger moved even closer, silently praying
that whatever security system they had was limited to just their property. Once
he was within a hundred yards, he was able to make out the silhouette of a
woman standing slightly behind and to the right of the young man. The woman fit
the general description of his target—height, weight, and hair—but before he
could get a better look, she leaned in to kiss the man on the cheek, obscuring
her face to him, and left the room.

Nothing was going his way today.

The “caw” sound of a black bird perched just above his head
almost made Grainger jump out of his skin. Holstering the weapon that he’d
reflexively pulled at the unexpected sound, he turned back to the window only
to find it empty.

He had two options left, neither of which boded well for
him. He could call in his suspicions to Daedric and risk his wrath if he was
wrong, or he could continue moving his surveillance closer to the house and
risk alerting them to his presence. The proverbial rock and hard place took on
a whole new meaning to him.

Taking a deep breath, Grainger made his decision, praying it
was the right one.

After Mirissa left Greco in the den, she headed to the
kitchen to grab a glass of water. Why had Greco’s true lineage been hidden from
her? On her first visit to Tritonia a year ago, Myrine had told her that a male
child had never been born to an Amazon. Why did she lie?

Mirissa’s thoughts were a jumble of unanswered questions
leaving her feeling vulnerable and more than a little lost. Opening the
cupboard to retrieve a drinking glass, she stopped suddenly as she was overcome
once again with the feeling that someone was watching her. Spinning around to
check behind her, she verified that she was still alone but couldn’t shake the
eerie feeling that someone was there. Walking back into the living room, she
booted up the laptop computer that Ken had used earlier, hoping to find the
security system program. She would feel a whole lot better if she could just
see those zones all lit up in green again.

The front door clicked almost imperceptibly behind her and
Mirissa’s years of training kicked in. Feigning ignorance of the intruder’s
presence, she kept her back turned and tapped at the keys on the computer,
listening for his footsteps. Once he was within range, she instantly swung
around and landed a hard roundhouse to his left shoulder, knocking him
sideways. Intending to follow up with a left jab, she stopped herself just
before making contact as the unknown man’s eyes locked on to hers. For some
reason that she couldn’t identify, she knew that he wasn’t a threat to her.

“Who are you?” she asked, still poised for a fight. Although
she was certain he was a friend, a little caution couldn’t hurt.

“My name is Phoenix, and we have a problem.” Stepping around
her to the computer on the table, he brought up the same security schematics
that Ken had earlier and found nothing amiss. “We need to wake everyone up
quickly and quietly. There is a man outside watching the house. Don’t let
anyone turn on any lights.”

“I knew it!” Ignoring the questioning look Phoenix gave her
at that comment, Mirissa immediately went to the den to get Greco. Once he’d
been brought up to speed on their predicament, they went through each room of
the house to collect the others.

A few moments later, the entire group was seated in the
living room, most rubbing their eyes, trying to wake themselves.

“He’s under a magnolia tree in the neighbor’s back yard. He
was watching a window at the back of our house through binoculars when my host
startled him. He almost shot him before he flew to safety.”

Mirissa’s look of confusion made Myrine smile. “Phoenix has
the ability to transfer his consciousness to birds. He can hear and see
whatever his host bird can.”

Now that’s pretty cool, she thought. “So, just like we can
send our consciousness to Tritonia?”

“Almost,” Phoenix said. “Except I split my consciousness so
that I don’t fully leave my body. It comes in handy.”

Myrine took over the conversation, assuming her leadership
role. “If he was watching the windows, then it’s safe to assume he knows who we
are. We’re lucky you got here when you did, Phoenix.” She inclined her head to
him to show him her appreciation. “This could work to our advantage. If we can
capture him, he might be able to enlighten us as to his boss’s intentions. We
don’t have much time, though. His backup could be here any minute.”

Within moments the group had a plan—one that Mirissa didn’t
like.

Finally he was catching a break. His target was once again
at the window and Grainger was determined to not waste this opportunity. He
needed to confirm her identity once and for all.

Moving toward the back of the yard to get a better angle,
Grainger watched as his target spoke to—no, yelled at—someone else in the room.
Her arms were flailing around as she spoke, punctuating whatever point she was
trying to make. Someone had really pissed this girl off. Once she’d presumably
made her point, she stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
Although Grainger couldn’t actually hear her, he’d been on the receiving end of
enough tirades like that from his wife that he had no trouble imagining what it
sounded like.

A moment later, the sliding glass door that opened onto the
pool deck opened and a still irate girl stomped out, taking deep breaths of the
warm night air. Although her back was turned, Grainger recognized the clothes
she was wearing as the same ones his men had seen her in earlier that day. Her
long brown hair hung loose down her back and swayed from side to side with
every angry step she took. Risking a quick glance away from his target,
Grainger checked the rest of the windows in the house. No lights or further
movement was apparent in any room he could see.

This was his chance to redeem himself with Daedric. If he
could secure this girl and hand her over to his boss, his life just might
become worth living again.

He’d already mapped out the cameras and sensors that covered
the backyard so he knew that the area she was pacing was well inside the scope
of their security system. That could only mean one thing—she’d disarmed system
so she could cool off outside without setting off any alarms. Grainger silently
thanked God for a woman’s temper.

Quickly and quietly, he wound his way through the trees and
bushes that decorated the yard of the neighboring house. Pausing for a moment
at the property line between the two homes to ensure that the sensors were, in
fact, dark, Grainger took his first step into enemy territory.

Still a little surprised by the lack of alarms blaring, it
crossed his mind that this was maybe a little too easy. Although he wanted to
live by the old adage “Never look a gift horse in the mouth,” Grainger knew
from experience that gift horses were usually of the Trojan variety.

Switching his binoculars to infrared, he scanned the yard in
front of him. The girl became a tall, bright blob of red and orange. She
appeared to be alone and Grainger almost felt stupid for his paranoia.

Almost.

Off to his right, moving slowly toward him from the beach,
were two more red and orange blobs. A quick look over his shoulder showed a
third and fourth blob coming at him from opposite sides of the neighboring
yard.

How the hell had they gotten behind him? And how had they
known exactly where he was? Grainger’s thoughts ran a mile a minute as he
analyzed his situation. He had no backup to rely on and the element of surprise
was obviously gone.

With no other options available to him, he decided on a
hasty retreat. The only advantage he had was that his opponents still thought
him unaware of their approach. It was a small advantage, but it was all
Grainger had and he intended to use it.

Crouching low, he crept toward the pool area where their
bait still paced back and forth, putting on quite a show of being angry.
Forcing himself to move slowly, Grainger inched both forward and slightly to
his left until the clearing between the two houses opened up beside him. With
one more quick check through his infrared binoculars he confirmed the position
of his stalkers. They’d kept their distance, presumably waiting for him to make
his move.

Perfect, he thought. Now it was going to come down to pure
speed, his versus theirs, and Grainger’s speed was legendary.

With no warning, he burst into a full sprint as though he’d
heard a starter’s pistol go off in his head. He knew he would have no cover
once he reached the road, so his only chance was to get to the side street
where his jeep was parked before any of his pursuers had a chance to ready
themselves for a shot. He had been a world-class sprinter throughout his high
school and college career, but this would most definitely be the race of his
life. As he neared the property line of the neighboring house, Grainger chanced
a look behind him. There was no movement that he could see, but without the
benefit of his infrared binoculars he couldn’t be sure. It was now or never, he
thought.

Jumping the curb, he half expected to be gunned down, but
with every stride he took unscathed his optimism grew. A loud howl pierced the
night behind him and caused him to redouble his efforts. Although he’d never
heard of wolf packs in Jacksonville Beach, it would be just the sort of luck he
would have. Once again looking over his shoulder he caught a glimpse of a large
wolf running right at him. His sprinting skills would be no match for that
four-legged beast. On the bright side, maybe the animal had scared off his
other stalkers.

He could see his jeep parked a hundred yards away but knew
he’d never make it. Without missing a step, he withdrew his 9mm pistol. He knew
the only way he could hit a target moving as fast and low as that wolf would be
to come to a complete stop first. That meant he would only get one chance. If
he missed, he would become a midnight snack.

With his next stride he planted his right foot as solidly as
he could and raised his weapon as he spun around to face the oncoming wolf, all
the while skidding down the road by his momentum. A second later he had dead
aim on the animal. Squeezing the trigger three times, he heard the telltale
yelp and saw the wolf splayed on the pavement.

Bull’s-eye!

With his gun still in his right hand, Grainger ran the rest
of the distance to his jeep. Yanking open the door, he threw his weapon on the
passenger seat and started the engine, squealing his tires as he drove off.

Still breathing heavily after the exertion of his escape, he
made the first right that he could, hoping it would take him back to Butler
Boulevard without having to drive past the safe house. In a neighborhood like
this those gunshots would draw a quick response from law enforcement and a
hasty exit was necessary. Kicking himself for not scouting the area before
starting his surveillance, he did his best to stay headed in a northerly
direction, hoping he was running parallel to Duval Drive.

He was so focused on finding his way out he almost missed
the movement just ahead on his right. A man ran out onto the street in front of
him and, to his surprise, stopped directly in his path. Jamming his foot on the
gas, Grainger kept his jeep aimed straight ahead in some twisted, one-sided
game of chicken. With only a few feet to go, he considered hitting his brakes
or swerving off the road, but the knowledge of how he would be punished by
Daedric for doing so was enough to keep his foot firmly on the gas.

His knuckles glowed white on the steering wheel from the
illumination of a street light and Grainger braced himself for impact as he
looked directly into his victim’s eyes. Odd, he thought, how he didn’t see any
fear in his expression.

A moment later the bumper and then the hood of his jeep
crashed right through the man standing on the street, without so much as a
shudder.

Instantly, Grainger felt the presence next to him. The man
that was standing on the street in front of him—the one he’d just driven
into—was sitting in his passenger seat, smiling and holding him at gunpoint.

“My name’s Han. What’s yours?”