Night Moves: A Shadow Force Novel

Praise for Stephanie Tyler
and the Shadow Force series

LIE WITH ME

PROMISES IN THE DARK

Prologue

Epilogue

K
ell Roberts had been at the foster home in Dillingham, Alaska, for three months, four days and sixteen hours and had managed to lie his way through every damned minute when the blond kid arrived with a deep Southern drawl, a bag Kell would later discover contained barely anything and an attitude as big as the hills, all to share Kell’s room. He barely acknowledged Kell’s existence, got into bed and didn’t get up for twenty-four hours straight.

Kell didn’t think enough of it to ask anyone his name. Roommates came and went here and he’d always found it better to not get involved.

On the second day, Kell’s wallet went missing, along with various and sundry other items, and although Kell had no proof other than his gut that it was the work of the blond kid, it left him alternately pissed and impressed.

On the third day, the blond kid registered for school and never made it to his first class because the counselor who met with him recommended homeschooling, deeming the kid
unfit for a school environment due to the undue negative influence he had over other students in previous environments
.

On the fourth night, Kell woke up to find his new roommate climbing out of the third-floor window. He followed the Louisiana-born boy with the deep drawl to their foster mom’s four-wheel-drive truck and wondered how he thought he could take it for a ride during an icy storm. And then he decided he needed to see how much of a death wish Blond Kid had.

He’d always had a pretty big one himself.

Blond Kid, who he’d soon find out was named Reid, had the truck hot-wired by the time Kell pushed into the passenger’s side. “You’re going to kill yourself.”

Reid glanced at him coolly. “And you’re coming along for the ride?”

Kell answered by shutting the door and securing his seatbelt. Reid didn’t bother to follow suit.

“I want my fucking wallet back,” Kell said finally, and Reid laughed as the car skidded down the long driveway, leaving Kell feeling as out of control as he’d ever been and strangely liberated at the same time. “Where are we going?”

“There’s got to be a bar around here somewhere.”

“They all card.” Both boys were tall for their age but no way were they passing for twenty-one. What the hell was this kid thinking?

“I borrowed some ID,” Reid said with a calm
drawl, like he didn’t have a care in the world. Kell knew that was complete bullshit and was quick to learn that in Reid’s vocabulary,
borrow
meant
steal
.

Kell had grown up with that type of vocabulary as well.

Reid drove for about ten minutes with surprising skill, and then the car skidded and Kell saw his life flashing before his eyes, just like everyone said it did. The sad part was, beyond remembering all the cons he’d learned to pull over the years, there wasn’t really much else. He heard Reid cursing throughout the slide and then he came to and they were in the ditch.

Reid was unconscious and the police would no doubt be called by passing motorists, so Kell got out of the car and he started walking back to the house, covering his footprints behind him because he wasn’t taking the blame for anyone else.

Everyone in this world is out for themselves—that’s the way you have to live, son—look out for yourself and screw everyone else
.

He remembered, in that brief moment, that his parents had included him in that sentiment. It was the reason he’d turned them in and ended up in a foster home in Alaska instead of with them.

He returned to the car and hauled Reid out, knowing nothing about spinal injuries and not moving unconscious people. All he knew was that he wouldn’t leave Reid behind to shoulder the blame alone, even though the damned kid had stolen his wallet. He still hadn’t known the blond kid’s name until he’d opened his eyes and mumbled it, because Kell had finally asked.

“This state sucks,” Reid mumbled then and closed his eyes to stop the tears. Kell pretended not to notice and then, a few minutes later, Reid was up, leaning on him as they walked the frigid mile back to the foster home.

Kell’s parents would be so damned disappointed in him yet again—he’d saved Reid’s ass so he’d definitely been born with the conscience they lacked.

Well, shit, you did learn something new every day.

They caught hell, of course. The foster mom was not stupid, although she did protect them from the police. It took Reid and him the better part of six months to work off the damage to the car, piecing it back together with the local mechanic and honing their skills in the process.

It was Reid’s fourth foster home in the space of a year, and Kell’s first and only. They lasted out another full year before emancipating and heading out to work along the docks of the Bering Sea, punishing, cruel work.

It was nowhere near as bad as the work that would follow, but being young and strong with a death wish would always work in their favor.

T
he stolen Jeep, courtesy of Reid, was parked away from the road while Kell and Reid lay, belly-down, twenty feet apart in the middle of the long stretch of desert road west of Ciudad Juarez in Chihuahua, Mexico.

The pitch-black road the drug kingpin they were after traveled weekly.

The night smelled like smoke and danger. Kell could taste both on his tongue; the familiar tingle began in his spine and Reid murmured in his miked ear, “Any minute now and the little chicken’s going to cross the road.”

Not much had changed in fourteen years. These days, Reid’s accent had mellowed; only when he was
tired or angry did the deep drawl emerge, although Reid himself hadn’t mellowed at all.

These days, Kell was still trying to balance the genes of his grifter parents by not caring for too many damned people while still using those skills to their fullest. He used to work jobs for Delta Force so highly classified that they didn’t exist on paper and their existence would be denied to anyone outside of the men performing the task. Now he was out of the Army and doing black ops missions that were still as highly deniable—and just as deadly.

This one was no exception. Six days in the hot Mexican sun and cool nights reconning for the perfect opportunity was neither fun nor safe, but it was necessary.

Juarez was a city of heaven and hell, depending on what you were looking for. The land surrounding it was a target-rich environment for illegals, slave traders, drug runners and the like—their last chance before they had to try to cross the official border.

The man they were after had no need to cross—his empire was a million-dollar enterprise and he worked out of Juarez and lived in a mansion in the hills.

That man was their payoff and he was finally here, about six klicks away, driving at a normal rate of speed so as not to catch the attention of cops or robbers. But Kell knew this was no simple nightly joyride.

His belly tightened, as it always did at the height of the chase. “Two in the cab—Rivera riding shotgun, his bodyguard at the wheel,” he confirmed, and why was Rivera sitting up front?

Kell shifted, waited until they closed the distance and focused in on the backseat.

No way—they couldn’t be this damned lucky today. “It’s Cruz.” Which was a jackpot … except for the tall blonde in ripped cargo pants and a tank top showing underneath a loosely buttoned denim shirt running along the side of the road at top speed toward Cruz’s car, trying to stay out of sight and not exactly succeeding.

Kell would have to be the one to tell her that her time might’ve just run out.

Hi, couldja run in the other direction because you’re about to blow a carefully planned op out of the fucking water with your sweet swinging hips
, and yeah, he needed a woman, and soon.

Just not this soon.

“Problem,” he muttered.

“Take care of it,” Reid growled through the earpiece from his position down the small embankment, the way he’d been growling this entire trip.

Yeah, sure,
take care of it
. “Who the hell runs around Mexico all by themselves at night like this?”

“Idiots. And operatives,” Reid answered.