WAR: Opposition: (WAR Book 3) (19 page)

With each step he took, his energy returned. By the time they reached the shelter, he felt almost normal. Normal for a man who was soaking wet, still had a roaring headache, and had just had his lungs freeze up thanks to a violent impact, that is.

He examined the construction of the shelter. “Not bad for a city girl, but I want to add another layer in case the wind picks up.” He held out his hand for his knife.

Kirra raised her brows and put the knife behind her back. “If you insist on staying out here in the rain instead of going inside the shelter, then you can tell me what to do.”

“Is that right?” She looked so strong, so beautiful, as she glared at him. The light from his flashlight threw harsh shadows on her that did nothing to detract from the lush female curves revealed by her rain-plastered clothing. He stepped toward her until only inches separated them. Then he reached out and cupped her cheek in his hand. “If I told you to kiss me like you did earlier? What would you say?” Dammit, where had those words come from?

But despite the diminished pounding in his head, he wanted to taste her again.

She shoved a lock of wet hair out of her face and met his eyes. He couldn’t for the life of him tell what she was thinking. Was she getting ready to smack him?

The corner of her mouth lifted. She leaned up and settled her mouth on his. He groaned in pleasure. Her lips were hotter than the lukewarm rain. His arms closed gently around her, pulling her flush against his body as he deepened the kiss. The rainwater mixed with Kirra’s unique taste to turn the kiss fresh and new.

A hidden part of him began to relax.

Thunder boomed overhead in a long, ear-splitting roll.

The reverberation spiked Seth’s headache. He jerked back and put his hands over his ears until the tumult died down. Then he dropped his hands to his sides and stared at Kirra.

Stupid. You had no business kissing her. Remember your mission. You have to say good-bye to her so you can protect your family.

“Your head must be near exploding if the thunder hurt you so much,” Kirra said cooly. “Tell me what branches to cut and where to put them, and I’ll fix the shelter.”

He stared at her, humbled by her attempt to protect him. He wanted so badly to pull her into his arms again and show her how much he did want her. Even if his circumstances had been different, a woman with such a generous spirit deserved a better man than him.

“I promise not to kiss you again.” Kirra’s expression had lost all that sensual feminine heat.

He hated it.

Clenching his fists, he directed her on how to strengthen the covering over the shelter. All the while cursing fate for bringing this woman into his life at the moment when it had become crucial for him to die.

“
Y
ou know what to do
?” Rio asked.

The man on the other side of the table nodded.

“Good. I will make certain that Morenga hears of your cooperation.”

The man ducked his head, then left the room.

Rio leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He’d presented the task he’d given the man—to inform Rio of any sightings of the white assassin—as if Morenga had sent down the orders. But although Rio could use help chasing down the assassin, he didn’t trust Morenga. He couldn’t risk that if Morenga sent a small team in to assist Rio, they might kill the assassin before Rio could hand the man over to Wil.

God forbid that Morenga learn the identity of the assassin. It didn’t matter that the assassin was no longer a member of the military. Questioning him about his past knowledge of U.S. military procedures would still gain Morenga valuable information. Which would undermine all the work Rio had done to gradually weaken Morenga’s organization from the inside.

Bureh’s rebels posed a more immediate threat. So far, they hadn’t shown up in the same location as the assassin. If that ever happened, Bureh’s men would do their best to take out the assassin. Whether the assassin had the skills to survive such an assault, Rio didn’t know. But there hadn’t been another sighting of him after his little stunt at that roundabout.

Rio only wished that someone would catch Hughes and the white woman, Kirra Neilson, on cell phone video and send it to one of his informants. Because he still had no clue where they were.

Rio was doing his best to interfere with the search by Bureh’s rebels. He’d hired a few of his more reliable local contacts to sabotage the rebels’ vehicles. Yet with several rebel platoons now participating in the hunt, there were too many search parties for Rio to be able to disable them all without tipping his hand to Bureh. Which was why Rio had also tapped into the rebels’ communications network.

Right now, even the rebels didn’t know which way Hughes and the woman had fled. For a pilot, Hughes sure knew how to evade pursuers on the ground. It made Rio wonder what had driven him to learn such advanced escape-and-evade techniques.

What really pissed Rio off was that he didn’t know for certain that the Neilson woman had the diamonds. If all this effort proved to be in vain, and Rio returned to Morenga empty-handed, he could kiss his job good-bye. And probably his life.

In that case, maybe turning the assassin over to Wil would earn him protection against Morenga’s guys.

He shook his head. No. He’d worked with Wil long enough to know that the man was a loyal son-of-a-bitch. Unlike the CIA, Wil wouldn’t abandon Rio if his cover broke. It was just Rio’s cynicism talking.

He rolled his head, trying to ease some of the tension in his neck. WAR must be busy elsewhere, otherwise Wil would have enlisted their aid with the assassin instead of his.

Which meant that the only way to take down the assassin would be to work with Dev Neilson and Michael Hughes. Assuming he could convince them that he was on their side.

He snorted. Sure. Like that was going to happen.

S
eth awoke
the next morning to sunshine warming a spot on his cheek, the sounds of birds calling, and a warm, female body snuggled up against his. He nuzzled against the wild riot of blonde curls, taking in the underlying female scent of Kirra. His palm rested just under her breasts and he allowed himself a long moment to savor the feel of her. It felt right. Necessary. He could stay like this all day.

Drowsy and achy, it took his mind a while to come fully alert. Assassin. Rebels. Storm.

The crushing weight of the tree branch.

His eyes flew open. A bird cried out nearby, then flew out of the bushes. The movement jostled the branches overhead, sending a trickle of water onto Seth’s cheek. Sighing, he tested the state of his recovery by slowly circling his head and tensing his muscles. Yesterday’s headache had vanished and nothing else hurt enough to be a hindrance. Good.

He reluctantly extracted himself from Kirra, then crawled outside to take care of his personal needs. She was still sleeping when he returned, so he grabbed his satellite phone, the charger, and the extra battery and headed back outside. He swapped out the battery and set the old one to charging in a patch of sunlight, then bit the bullet and checked his messages.

He had fifteen missed calls. All from unknown numbers. But only two voicemails.

The first voicemail simply said. “Call me.” Nothing else. But Rick Martin, Morenga’s second-in-command of security, had a memorable voice. One guaranteed to confuse anyone trying to pin down his nationality. Sometimes he sounded American, with maybe a hispanic tilt. Other times he sounded Middle Eastern. When Seth had met the man in person, Martin had spoken with a slight West African accent. Which made Seth think that the guy’s real name was nothing close to Rick or Martin. The guy’s history was probably as complicated as Seth’s own.

Not that it was any of his business. Like most people living off the grid, Seth never asked about a man’s past and expected the same courtesy. Still, he wondered about Martin’s past and what had brought him to work for Morenga.

Seth frowned at the jungle. The first time he’d worked for Morenga it had been set up by his blackmailer. After that, whenever Morenga needed his services, Seth had dealt with the operations team. Not the security team. So why was Martin calling him?

He paced slowly along a break in the vegetation. Did he dare call Martin back? He didn’t like the coincidence of the man contacting him in the middle of this situation. Worse, if Morenga was somehow involved, then the stakes had just been raised.

Seth liked Martin. The guy was a tough s.o.b., but fair. His reputation said that he didn’t engage in ass-kissing or backstabbing. If he had a problem with you, he’d tell you to your face. Still, his fast rise within Morenga’s organization indicated a ruthless streak. Seth didn’t want to get on Martin’s bad side. Of course, since Martin was likely calling on behalf of Morenga, then the consequences of not returning his call could be dire.

On the other hand, Seth preferred to stay under the radar until Kirra was safe.

He listened to the second message. This voice identified itself as belonging to Bureh’s head of security. Jesus, he was suddenly popular in the security realm.

“Mr. Hughes,” the man said. “We have information that suggests you are harboring a fugitive. My boss wishes you to bring the white woman to us immediately. Should you fail to do so, he will let your mutual friend know that your services were unsatisfactory and that you should be appropriately punished.”

“Bastard.” Fury pulsed through Seth.

“When you are ready to turn over the woman, call this number and you will be given further instructions. I trust that you will not fail us in this, Mr. Hughes.”

Seth jammed the phone in his pocket, then spun on his heel and stormed back the way he’d come. Bureh had some fucking nerve. Seth’s temporary employment didn’t begin until Saturday. There was nothing in his contract that said his future employers had any right to his time before then.

Yet his blackmailer wouldn’t care. If Bureh called to complain, he’d seize the opportunity and harm Seth’s family, thus binding him closer.

Shit.

There was no way in hell he was turning Kirra over. But these messages made it urgent to get Kirra to safety. Then Seth would backtrack, find the assassin, and end this all before the ones he cared about ended up hurt or dead.

And if the assassin decides to play with you some more?

In that case, he’d put his hand around the assassin’s and force the guy to pull the trigger.

His chest ached at the thought of saying good-bye to Kirra, but that was a small price to pay for her safety.

“Seth!” Kirra’s head poked out from the shelter. Her panicked expression eased when she spotted him. “Oh, thank God. I thought maybe the assassin got you.”

“No. Even if he did somehow manage to find the spot where we left the Range Rover, the storm would have washed away our trail. It would take a miracle for him to find us. We’re safe as long as we stay away from populated areas.”

“Okay.” She crawled outside and stood up. Seth watched the play of her breasts under her shirt as she put her hands behind her, then arched her back.

Glancing quickly away before his body got any ideas, he said, “We should eat, then get moving.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw her pause. Yeah, that had come out pretty curt.

Her expression closed off as she raised her arms overhead and interlocked her fingers.

Ignoring the regret that tugged at his heart, Seth ducked down to grab his backpack. While Kirra continued stretching, he pulled out the MREs.

“How’s your headache?” she asked after she’d finished her routine.

“Gone.”

“That’s good.” She entered their shelter and returned carrying the same model water bottle that he had.

He nodded in approval. The advanced filtration system would allow them to refill the bottles from puddles or any other standing water without worrying about diseases or parasites.

Kirra snagged one of the MREs, then walked a few feet away before perching on a rock.

Dammit, he hated the distance between them.

This is for the best. Don’t let her get too attached to you. Not when you’re going to die.

He knew his conscience was right. But that didn’t mean he had to like it.

“You cried out in your sleep last night,” she said.

Shit. “Ah…”

“You kept calling for Michael. Several times you yelled ‘No’ while you punched invisible enemies.”

He took an involuntary step toward her. “Did I hurt you?”

She met his eyes. “No.”

Relief settled over him. He opened an MRE and took a swallow.

“This has something to do with those deaths you mentioned.”

He choked and spit out his food.

Kirra smiled smugly. “You might as well tell me the truth. I know you’re not a murderer.”

He grabbed his water bottle to give himself time to think.

She continued to eat her MRE, watching him expectantly.

“Not here,” he finally said. “Once we’re moving again, I’ll tell you what I can.”

She nodded.

Seth hurriedly ate a couple of MREs. After they’d packed away their trash, he pulled out his satellite phone. He put through another call to Dr. LaSalle, but again it went to voicemail. Seth frowned at the phone. Did he even have the correct number? He shrugged. It didn’t matter. Either the doctor called him back or he didn’t. For now, Seth would continue to escort Kirra north.

He glanced at the phone. Should he return Rick Martin’s call or not?

No. The truth was, he’d rather plead innocence at this point and pretend that he’d never heard the message. He didn’t want anyone interfering with his plans for Kirra.

He held out his phone to Kirra. “I want you to take this.”

“Why?” She tried to hand it back.

“Keep it.” He picked up the solar charger and detached the charging battery. “I’ll set the charger up so the phone will get power whenever the sun hits your backpack. This way, if something happens and we get separated, you can use the phone’s compass and GPS to navigate out of here and call for help.”

“No.” Alarm replaced the detachment on her face. “Seth, we’re not going to be separated.” She shoved the phone toward him.

Yes, they were. As soon as he turned her over to people who could protect her, he would leave. He closed her fingers over the phone. “Kirra, just humor me, okay?”

“Humor you, my ass. I should find another thick tree branch to knock some sense into you. Clearly that blow dislodged any common sense you have.”

“I want you safe.” He let his gaze bore into her, willing her to understand that this mattered, damn it.

After a long, tense staring contest that made him fear she wouldn’t give in, she huffed out a breath and raised her eyes to the sky. “Fine.”

“Thank you.”

She stuck the phone in an outside pocket of her backpack while he rigged up the phone charger.

“You still have my knife?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He checked the GPS coordinates on his watch, then nodded at the trees. “Let’s go.”

“Do you know where we’re going?” Kirra asked after a while.

“Of course. Pilots never get lost.”

Kirra snorted. “You’re in the jungle. Tell me how being a pilot has relevance?”

“We’re hard-wired to always know where we are, sweetheart.”

“Uh-huh. So. You owe me a story.”

Yeah, after she’d bared her soul to him, he supposed he did. She wasn’t going to turn him in to the U.S. military, and he liked the idea of one person knowing his side of the story.

“Okay.” He gathered his thoughts and made sure that his emotions were tightly locked away. “Three years ago, back in Southeast Asia. I flew helicopters for the U.S. Army’s special forces. My team had been assigned to an ancillary base tasked with hitting targets of strategic importance to the drug cartels who’d been threatening the national government’s control over the region.” He motioned to the trees on either side of the path. “Some parts of it weren’t much different from here. Jungle. Humidity. Other parts were totally different. There were mountains everywhere. Too many mountains. It gave the drug runners a lot of hidden valleys in which to hide. And it made flying reconnaissance all that much harder, especially when the rain or the fog came in.”

“You must have been pretty good to be part of such a team.”

“Yeah, I was. Flying helicopters is all I ever wanted to do. It felt like coming home every time I strapped myself into the cockpit. If I could spend all of my time in the air, I would.”

“So what happened?”

Seth swatted at a insect on his neck. He’d revisited that day in his nightmares countless times, reliving the sick horror and what-the-fuck outrage. As Kirra had witnessed, he still occasionally woke up screaming in denial and punching at the empty room. “My team had just destroyed our target. We were headed home when we were attacked by a squad of helicopters from our base.”

“Wait. What?!” Kirra said. “Your own side? Why?”

“We had no idea,” Seth said, feeling his emotions push to get out. He couldn’t let that happen. “They jammed our communications and fired on us without warning.” He pushed a branch out of his way, but it wasn’t this jungle he saw, but the dark jungle in Southeast Asia lit by the fire from Michael’s helicopter as it plummeted to the ground, then exploded. Pain and grief broke out of their prison and gripped him by the throat.

No! If he let this darkness out, he might hurt Kirra.

He struggled to shove his emotions back into the mental lock box. After a few tries, he succeeded. But the effort left him sweating. And made it more difficult to reach deep inside for the calm detachment he needed to tell the rest of the tale.

“They blew up my squad’s tail helicopter,” he continued.

Michael’s voice screaming over the radio…

No. He had to stay cool. Stay calm. Even if he managed not to physically hurt Kirra, seeing him lose his shit would surely drive her away.

“God, Seth. I’m so sorry.”

“We fought back, even took down a couple of them, but of the four helicopters in my squad, only my helicopter survived. My helicopter was badly damaged. With the attackers in pursuit, I fled to the main base, which was closer.” Fury and fear had driven him to take risks in his flying that even with his reckless streak he wouldn’t have attempted otherwise. “Just before we reached radar range for the main base, the pursuing helicopters veered off and flew away. I thought we were safe.” Unable to completely keep his anger and bitterness under control, he gave a harsh laugh. “Instead, we were met by a team of hostile military police. My co-pilot was critically injured and was whisked off to the infirmary. I never saw him again.” He wished he’d had time to go back and find out what happened to Bobby. Just as he wished he’d been able to go back into the jungle to pull the bodies of his teammates out of the wreckage and give them a proper burial.

“What about you?”

“Since my wounds weren’t as serious, they arrested me.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No. I spent a few cold hours bleeding in a cell before the MPs escorted me into an interrogation room. Then the situation took an even nastier turn.” Every time he thought he’d gotten over the betrayal, he remembered his time in that cell and wanted to scream at the injustice of it.

His hands shook. He clenched and unclenched his fists while he ruthlessly tamped down his emotions.

“Long story short, a team from the Criminal Investigation Command were investigating charges of corruption and drug running against the general in charge of the ancillary base.” Sick dread filled his belly, just as it had that day. “The general had told us that our missions undermined the support of the drug cartels, but in reality our targets had been locals who opposed the cartels.”

He swallowed heavily. “My team had wiped out hundreds of innocent people over the course of four months, including women and children. Because we used laser-guided missiles, we’d never actually flown close enough to realize that the targets didn’t fit within our usual parameters.”