Dire Distraction (5 page)

He nodded, reaching down to grab the dynamite and a clip of ammo. “With any luck, I can rig the gunpowder as a fuse.” She had to admit there was a certain genius to the plan. With another quick nod, he sprinted toward the back of the boat and the engine box, keeping low to avoid the gunfire.

With the throttle open and the boat moving forward on its own, Syd grabbed the weapons and the ammo and stuffed them into Avery’s neoprene bag. She added some rations and a couple bottles of water, then slung it over her shoulder, grabbing her own go-bag as she moved toward the starboard side of the boat. Bullets were hailing all around her now, and she used the boat’s benches and canopy to shield her.

Despite her growing concern, she resisted the urge to check on Avery. He could handle himself. What he needed now was for her to do her part. With a last spurt she darted across the open space between the passenger bench and the wooden gate that opened from the side of the boat to allow for disembarking.

Her fingers trembled in the cold rain as she fumbled to open it, but finally, the sodden wood yielded to her pressure and swung back, the rain-swollen river rushing by just below her feet. Peering through the quickly deepening shadows, she could just make out the river bank. The trick would be to fight across the current to the calmer water just beyond the boat.

The hull next to the opening splintered as another hail of bullets slammed into the boat. She glanced back to try to find Avery, but the rain obscured her vision, and so she turned back to the water. It was now or never. And as another volley of bullets sprayed across the deck behind her, she looped the bags around her shoulders and slid into the water, praying that Avery would be following behind her.

The current was stronger than she’d expected, the water pulling her downward. She sputtered, fighting her way back to the surface. And then, kicking hard, she began to swim toward the shore, the rush of the water drowning out the sound of the gunfire behind her.

Then suddenly the night sky lit up like a Christmas tree, sparks shooting high into the air as a plume of flame and smoke billowed upward. She could actually feel the heat from the explosion washing across the surface of the water.

Safe in the slower current, out of the sightline of the speedboat, she frantically scanned the surface of the river, looking for Avery. Heart pounding, she treaded water, the empty river making a mockery of her search. If anything happened to him, there would be hell to pay.

And yet, even as she had the thought, she knew her worry stemmed from something more. She might not believe in heroes, but if there were such a thing, she was pretty damn certain that Avery Solomon would make the cut. And the idea that he might not have made it was more than she wanted to contemplate.

She pushed a clump of wet hair out of her face, watching as the speedboat slowly circled what was left of her boat. As it passed the bow, it seemed to hesitate for a moment, and then she heard the engines kick into high gear as the little boat sped off into the night, leaving behind the quiet of the river and the eerie glow of burning wreckage.

Avery’s plan had worked.

Now if only she could find him.

Beside her something surfaced in a spray of water, the big man appearing like freaking Poseidon. Hell, he even had the trident—if a rifle counted.

“Where the hell have you been?” she asked, embarrassed by the rough emotion in her voice. But she’d already lost one friend and she didn’t think she could stand losing another.

“Watching the show. I wanted to be sure they bought into the fiction. If not…” He trailed off, lifting the rifle.

“Well, I’m glad you’re all right,” she said, working to make her voice sound more impassive. “I’d have hated to have to explain losing you to Langley.”

“There’d have definitely been some paperwork,” he said, laughter coloring his voice. And even though she couldn’t see his eyes, she could feel the warmth of his gaze. “But it’s all good. The ruse worked. And the hostiles have most definitely bugged out.”

“And if they did know who we are, then I’m guessing word of our demise is going to spread pretty damn quickly. Power is the name of the game out here. And he who destroys the enemy curries respect.” She shivered, still watching the burning remnants of her vessel.

Avery reached out to take the bags, still strapped around her body. She rolled her shoulders in relief, her muscles beginning to shake as the rush of adrenaline and relief faded.

“We need to get you out of the river,” Avery said. “Somewhere dry. Will you be able to find your friend’s place on foot?”

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” she said, her teeth chattering with the effort. Damn it. The last thing she needed was to fall apart now. The battle had been won. And she hadn’t even done the hard part.

“All right then, I’ll follow your lead.”

Syd took a last look at the remnants of her boat, then sucked in a deep breath and set out for the shore, the little voice in her head chiding that Avery Solomon wasn’t the kind of man to follow anyone. Ever.

S
ydney’s friend’s shack was more of a lean-to than anything else. A wooden frame dug back into the side of a hill, with thatching for walls and a rough-hewn platform serving as a floor. Palm trees arched overhead, the patter of the rain on their leaves adding a tympanic score to the otherwise still night.

A battered pot-bellied stove stood in the far corner, and somehow, Sydney had managed to coax the water-laden wood stacked on the porch into catching fire. Although the night wasn’t particularly chilly, the heat felt good nevertheless, their dunk in the river leaving them both wet and uncomfortable.

Two lanterns hung from the rafters, providing flickering light, and a third sat on the table near the stove. Sydney had rigged a clothesline of sorts using an old piece of rope strung between the stove’s exhaust pipe and the window frame, their dripping clothes framing the window like some kind of bedraggled curtains.

Avery wore a pair of dry cotton pants from his go-bag. And Sydney wore his T-shirt, the damn thing practically swallowing her, hanging well below her knees—yet somehow, the effect was all the more alluring.

He knew he shouldn’t be thinking like that. Hell, he shouldn’t even be looking, but the truth was that she was a beautiful woman, and he’d have had to be dead not to notice the fact. And besides, he’d always had a thing for strong women. And Sydney Price was definitely that.

He rubbed a finger across the smooth gold of Evangeline’s wedding band. The cool metal reminding him of why he was here. And why he couldn’t let his mind go down that particular path. He wasn’t free to think like that. Hell, for all he knew, he’d been living a lie for the past fourteen years. It was just so damn hard to get his head around it all. If Evangeline was actually alive…he tightened his fingers, slamming his fist against the rickety table.

“You okay?” Sydney asked, turning around, her green eyes filled with concern.

“Yeah, sorry. Just thinking about your boat. I’m sorry I had to destroy it.”

Sydney shrugged as she set a plate of food in front of him. “You said it yourself. It was our best option.” She smiled, the gesture not quite reaching her eyes as she put a second plate on the table and sat down across from him.

“This looks good,” Avery said, focusing on the food, feeling somehow as if he’d left his feelings bare for her to see. And the idea didn’t sit all that comfortably.

“Well, I didn’t have much to work with.” She handed him a bottle of water. “Some mangoes, some beans, and some rice. It’s not exactly haute cuisine. More like local comfort food.”

“From where I’m sitting,” he said around a forkful of food, “it doesn’t get any better. In fact, it’s exactly what we needed after our little river adventure.”

“You think they really bought into the show?” Her gaze darted to the window and then back to the table again, her expression still showing concern.

“Yeah. If they hadn’t believed we were dead, they’d have stayed to search the river. Although it won’t hurt to keep watch tonight. Just to be sure.”

“At least we’re on the Laos side. It should be safer over here.” She shrugged as she dug into her plate of rice and beans.

“For what it’s worth,” Avery said, the strength of his regret surprising him, “I really am sorry I got you into this.”

“Part of the job. And hopefully, in the end, it’ll all be worth it.” She tilted her head, studying him, waiting.

His first instinct was to duck the unasked question. But then he thought about her boat and the explosion, and just how easily she’d taken it all in stride. He figured he owed her an answer. A real one.

He reached for the water bottle, taking a long swallow, and then set it back on the table. “A few months back, we were sent on a mission to Afghanistan.”

She nodded without comment, sitting back, arms crossed. He liked the fact that she didn’t pepper him with questions, giving him time to tell the story in his own way.

“There was intel that suggested a village in the mountains was really a terrorist encampment. We executed a raid, but they’d evidently gotten word we were coming. Except for a lone sniper, the place was deserted. We scoured their headquarters and managed to come up with some pretty damning intelligence. Enough to help us thwart an attack on Manhattan.”

“You’re talking about the bombings in the city. And the assassination attempt.” They were statements, not questions. Sydney had apparently done her homework.

“Yes. Anyway, in addition to the other stuff we found, there was also a hard drive. Partially destroyed. Virtually unreadable. But my tech guru, Harrison Blake, is the kind that won’t give up on a puzzle, and so he kept at it. And finally, last week, he managed to pull something off the damn thing.”

“Something that led you here—to find Shrum.” Again, she was giving him an out. A way to keep his own council, and again he realized that in doing so, she’d actually convinced him she deserved the whole truth.

“Harrison found a picture of my wife.”

Sydney’s gaze shot to his empty ring finger and then to the gold band on his little finger, her eyebrows moving together in confusion.

“My wife died fourteen years ago,” he said, cutting to the chase. “Or at least that’s what I believed. Until I saw the picture.” He paused to take another sip of water, ordering his thoughts, then reached down to the bag at his feet, producing a copy of the image. “This is what he found.”

Sydney picked up the photograph, tilting it so that she could see it better in the lantern light. “That’s Shrum.” She frowned down at the picture, her eyes moving across it. “And I take it that’s your wife?”

Avery nodded. “Evangeline.”

“And you think this is real? I mean, these days it’s pretty damn easy to fake this sort of thing.”

“Agreed. But Harrison hasn’t been able to prove that it was manipulated. So at least some part of me has accepted that it’s real. It’s just that…”

“She doesn’t look like a captive,” Sydney said, finishing his thought. “And if she’s not being held against her will, then…” It was her turn to leave the sentence unfinished. “God, I don’t know what I’d do if I were in your shoes.”

“You’d come out here and try to find the truth.”

“Yeah, I guess I would.” She was still studying the photo. “Does she look older?”

“I don’t know,” Avery said, tilting back his head on a sigh. “I’ve stared at the thing so much now, I don’t even know what I’m seeing anymore. I mean, I know it’s her, but the picture is grainy and her face is in shadow, so I can’t really tell if she’s aged.”

“Well, even if it did look that way, that kind of thing can be manipulated too. But the real question here is why someone in Afghanistan, conceivably a terrorist, would have the picture in the first place.”

Again he was struck by her consideration. She wasn’t asking about his marriage. Or even about Evangeline’s death. She was focusing on the photo and the mission. Of course, that would have been part of her training. At Langley, subtlety was always the key. Still, he couldn’t shake the sense that it was something more. That she was trying to spare him the pain of reliving all the details.

“That’s the question I’ve been asking since we found the damn thing. My team thinks there’s a possibility the whole thing was a setup. A way to lure us in.”

“You think it’s Shrum?” The idea clearly surprised her.

“I don’t think we can rule it out. But there’s nothing in the intel we have on him to indicate he’s in bed with anyone in the Middle East. And nothing that ties him directly to terrorists.”

“Beyond aiding and abetting the drug trade,” Sydney added. “Although, believe me, if Shrum wants something badly enough, he’ll go to any lengths to obtain it. But that said, I’d have to agree with you. I don’t see Shrum being connected to something that big. Although clearly, somebody has got a bead on him. If they’re close enough to get pictures.”

Avery nodded his agreement. “There’s a group we’ve been tracking for a few years now. They call themselves the Consortium. We don’t really know that much about them. But we think they’re a highly organized network of arms dealers playing for the highest of stakes. We believe they were behind the assassination attempt in Manhattan and the bombings. As well as a couple other attempts to attack the city. We also linked them to the terrorist camp in Afghanistan.”

“So you think they wanted you to find the hard drive.”

“Maybe. Or maybe there’s something bigger at play here and we really uncovered it. But either way, I’d bet my life that the Consortium is involved. They’ve got a hard-on for A-Tac. We’ve been a pretty big thorn in their side for a while now.”

“And so you think they planted the photo to get you out here.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me if they were trying to keep us distracted. When they’ve got something big on the burner, they tend to try to use smoke screens to pull us off the scent.”

“Well, I’d certainly say that this counts as a distraction. Which is obviously why Langley didn’t want your team to come.”

“Exactly. But even if it is meant as a distraction, that doesn’t mean there’s not something legitimate going on. For all I know, they’re using the photo to try to tip me off to something Shrum is doing.”

“Distract you while helping you find your wife?”

“When you put it like that, it sounds crazy. Hell, I don’t know.” He ran a hand across the top of his head, helplessness cascading through him. It wasn’t an emotion he was comfortable with. “Truth is, my gut tells me this is just some kind of macabre joke. A way to throw me off my game. But then I start thinking what if it’s not—what if, for whatever reason, the tip is real?”

“Then like I said before, you have to find out. It’s as simple as that.” Sydney was quiet for a moment, staring down at her hands, and then she lifted her eyes, her gaze colliding with his. “It was Evangeline you were talking about earlier. When we were talking about true love.”

“It was.”

“You loved her very much.” Her voice was soft, almost wistful, and the tone surprised him.

“I did. Evangeline was an amazing woman. In the beginning, I couldn’t even believe she was interested in me. In fact, I don’t think she was at first. Shrum was the one with all the charm. And he was the one who first approached her. We were in a bar. In Marseilles. She was drinking with a couple of friends. And Shrum bought them a round. We all got drunk and traded war stories…”

“And the rest is history.”

“No. It wasn’t that easy, believe me. But perseverance won the day. I wore her down and, in the end, I prevailed. Truth was, I don’t think I ever really realized how lucky I was. Or how easily it could all be ripped away. If I had, I would have handled things differently.”

“I think most people would say the same. We’re just not programmed to be introspective like that. Life is best lived in the moment. And besides, it’s hard to believe that tomorrow is anything but inevitable. Especially when we’re young.”

“Well, considering you’re not exactly over the hill yet, I’m going to take that as incredibly insightful.”

“I’m not as young as I look,” she smiled, but there was a hint of sadness. “Or maybe it’s just that I feel a lot older than I am.”

“This job will do that to you.” Avery nodded, surprised at the camaraderie he felt in the moment.

“So what happened, to Evangeline, I mean?” she asked, her eyes telegraphing apology. “I’m assuming you never saw a body or there wouldn’t be any question that the photograph was faked.”

“You’re right. There was nothing left to see.” His finger moved automatically to the smooth gold of Evangeline’s ring. “She was killed in a roadside bombing in Iraq. The vehicle, and everyone inside it, was destroyed.”

“But you’re sure she was there?”

“Yeah.” Pain stabbed through him, the memory bitter. “There were witnesses. People who knew she was in the Humvee. But it was chaotic. An ambush. So anything was possible.”

“But they found her ring.” Her eyes moved again to the gold band, her voice hesitant, as if she knew that he was trying to tiptoe through the memory.

“In the rubble. Yes.” He lifted his gaze, pulling free from the past. “When I got it, I still didn’t accept it as truth. But after digging around, interviewing folks on the ground, I finally had to accept that Evangeline was gone.”

“So if you were working with Shrum, you were already CIA?”

“Yeah, but still wet behind the ears.”

“And Evangeline? You said you first met in a bar?”

He nodded, smiling despite the pain of the memory, seeing her dark eyes and curling hair. “She was a reporter. And the meeting was totally by accident, but it turned out she was working on an investigation that crossed with an op we were running. So we agreed to pool our resources.”

“Shrum too?”

Avery’s mood darkened as he thought about the man he’d once considered his friend. “We were like the Three Musketeers in those days. Until Evangeline and I became an item.”

“I take it Shrum didn’t approve?”

“More like he wished it were him instead of me. Evangeline drew men like flies to honey. And Martin was no exception. Hell, I wasn’t any different. I just happened to take home the prize.”

“And that didn’t sit well with Shrum?”

“He dealt with it. But things were never the same between us after that.”

“So how did Evangeline end up in Iraq? I know you were stationed in Eastern Europe.”

“She pulled some strings to get embedded with the troops. It was before the days when that kind of thing was routine. I didn’t even know she’d gone until they notified me about her death.”

“So you were married, but you weren’t living together?” Sydney was frowning now, clearly trying to put the pieces together.

“No, we shared an apartment. When we could. But we both had active careers, to say the least, and we were often pulled in opposite directions. It was just part of who we were.” He sighed. “Evangeline was really good at what she did. She was a reporter in her soul. Born to be in the middle of the action, telling people the cold, hard truth. I admired that about her. But it made her reckless.”

“And you didn’t want her to take those kinds of risks.”