Double Cross (Hard Target Book 1) Read online

  “State Department? Why the fuck would they send a kid’s doctor into a drug lord’s territory?”

  Kin gave him a look. “Kid doctor, yeah?” When Duke didn’t elaborate, the Wolf continued. “T’is your government, mate. I don’t know shite and plan t’keep it that way. If ya like, Loch n’me can manage t’get ears on the place. At the very least, we need t’decide whether t’blow the main house like we planned.” He glanced over his shoulder at the rest of the team. “Your call, mate.”

  Yeah. His call. He was the damn mission boss. Part of him wanted to put a bullet in her brain to put her out of his misery. The rest wanted to strip her down and fuck her until neither of them could breathe. Decisions, decisions. Being an intelligent man, he decided this was above his pay grade.

  “Call Mother. She needs to know Dr. Prince is here.”

  His men’s eyes focused on him then Tank and Dalton exchanged a look. Yeah, they weren’t feeling the love either. Uri hunkered down next to the compact radio unit. Moments later, Mother’s voice crackled from the speaker.

  “We’ve got a situation,” Duke started.

  Mother cut him off. “Did you get her?”

  The men exchanged uneasy glances and Duke snarled. “You wanna explain what’s going on, Mother?

  “Take out the top levels of the effing cartel, Duke. Bring the little bird home. We’ll talk then.”

  He counted to ten—about a hundred times. “You knew she was here?”

  “I knew she was taken this morning. Figured she might end up there when I heard it was an army officer who took her. Two birds, one stone. Or bullet. Same outcome. Everybody gets what they want.”

  “What is it you want, Mother?”

  “What I want isn’t in the mix, Duke. Shit rolls downhill. You know that as well as anybody.”

  Dammit. He was not going to fuck up this mission, would not sacrifice these men who were now as much his as SEAL Team Atlantis had been.

  “Is this a set up, Mother?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure? I have a thing about ambushes.”

  “Would I do that to you?” She paused a beat before continuing. “Don’t answer that. If I want your ass, I’ll kick it myself.” She huffed out a breath. “Duke, I know the history here. I wasn’t aware of Dr. Prince’s situation until an hour ago, long after Hard Target had already been deployed. I don’t play those kinds of games, and my bosses know it. Your team is not compromised.”

  “Excuse my paranoia, but are you positive?”

  “You’ll just have to trust me. I have you covered. All of you. Get this done, Duke, and come home.” The radio hummed to silence.

  He dipped his head back to the scope, stared into frightened, and red-rimmed, blue eyes, and wondered just where home might be. This wasn’t about him, or the princess. This was about the mission. All the personal shit could wait. He inhaled. Exhaled. Gave the order.

  “Extract her before we blow the villa, Kin.”

  “I’ll retrieve her then. What is it American cowboys say? Yippee-ki-yay, motherfuckers?”

  “No, that would be John McClane, the cop character in the Die Hard movies.” And didn’t that just sum up his personal hell. Duke scrubbed at his forehead. The team was out of options. They had to cut the head off the cartel, and no matter how much part of him might want to leave Dr. Cory Prince behind to suffer the consequences of her actions, he couldn’t do it. Not and face himself in the mirror every morning for the rest of his life. “Get her out, Kin. We’ll cover your six.”

  “My arse appreciates that, Duke.” The cocky Scot gave him a one-fingered salute before disappearing into the jungle foliage.

  “It’s time to party.” He muttered the words, but Tank heard them. So did Dalton, Uri, and Lochlan.

  “Fitting, since the gang’s all here.” Tank nudged his hip with a boot. “Like old times.”

  “Speak for yourself.” Duke settled back into his firing position, doing his best to ignore the smirks and snickers from his teammates. He knew what they suspected, though they’d be wrong. Every last one of them was a hound dog when it came to the ladies. He wasn’t. Not anymore. And so what if he didn’t partake? So what if his fucking dick had developed a mind of its own when it came to fucking. And the fucker had just decided it liked fucking redheads.

  Uri, with Moshe and Golda, and Tank slipped off to follow Kin while Lochlan hunkered down to stick fuses into prepared explosive charges. Mother was serious when she said she wanted the cartel to go boom. The team could arrange that.

  Dalton set a spotter’s scope beside Duke and dropped down to spread out his lanky frame. An uncomfortable silence stretched between them. Duke finally broke it.

  “What?”

  “I’ve done some checking.”

  “On what?”

  “Her.”

  “Fuck off, Dalton. It doesn’t concern you.”

  “Wrong. If it messes up your head, Duke, it concerns all of us. Trust me when I say this bimbo has you fucked up nine ways from Sunday.”

  “Don’t call her a bimbo.”

  “Would you rather I call her a bitch?”

  Before Duke realized what he was doing, he had Dalton pinned to the ground, his hand fisting the other man’s shirt. “I told you to stay the fuck out of it, Dalton.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I figured.” He pried Duke’s fingers loose and pushed him off. Resuming his former position—belly down, eye to the spotter scope—Dalton continued. “You dream about her, Duke. I hear you talking in your sleep. When you sleep.”

  Duke gritted his teeth. He wasn’t going to ask, wouldn’t pry, didn’t give a rat’s ass about her.

  “What did you find out?” Fuck. So much for his vaunted self-control.

  “I think someone is trying to kill her. Or get her out of the way.”

  “You mean besides me?” Duke switched to binoculars to scan the compound below them.

  “I’m serious, Duke.”

  “So am I.”

  “Fine. Walk away. Be an asshole.” Dalton’s frustration and worry leaked across Duke’s anger. “I know what she did to you. I know what you did to her. You two have history. I get that. But just like the crap that led us to being set up in Africa, there’s something going on with her. Something beneath the surface. So I looked into things. DICA didn’t then and still doesn’t send doctors into hot zones. She should never have been closer to a rebel warlord than Cairo or Johannesburg. Something’s not right, Duke.”

  “Then lay it out.” Duke listened with half his attention. Dalton had always had a heart as soft as his head.

  “One, she’s put in the middle of a political nightmare where the government troops are almost as bad as the rebel warlords. Two, her alleged guards cut and run at the first sign of trouble, including three highly-paid mercs. Three, she didn’t expect a ransom, figuring her family would leave her flapping in the wind.”

  Dalton paused as he focused on something in the villa below. He tapped the tiny microphone near his mouth. “Heads up, kids. Change of guards.”

  Duke watched through his own scope, noting the slim shadow moving around in the bedroom beyond the French doors. Occasionally, Cory passed into view, and it appeared she’d changed clothes.

  Once Kin, Tank, and Uri acknowledged, Dalton continued. “Where was I?”

  “Four?”

  “Yeah, four. There’s a huge family trust fund. She’s the main beneficiary, but she’s got cousins lurking in the shadows.”

  “That all you got?”

  “Nope. The male cousin who has power of attorney works for State.”

  “The State Department?” Huh. What were the odds?

  “Yep. Some special assistant to the fifth special undersecretary for special foreign projects at the State Department. It’s just too special for words.”

  Duke lowered the binoculars and turned his head to stare at Dalton. He read sincere concern on his friend’s face. “You’re serious.”

  He sat up and rocked ba
ck on his heels, considering for the first time that Cory might be in danger from something besides her own naïveté. Who had it in for the doctor so bad they wanted her dead—or worse? And why?

  Granted, the woman was completely maddening. He’d happily strangle her with his own hands—but only because the other alternative was to fuck her blind. No. That was wrong. He wanted to make love to her. All night long. Had since the moment almost two years ago when she’d stepped out of that mud hut covered in blood.

  “Fuck.”

  “My sentiments exactly, Duke.”

  Chapter 16

  CORY SAT on the bench next to her suitcases for about ten minutes, anxiously listening to every sound, getting acclimatized to the rhythm of the villa. She changed into sturdy cargo pants, hiking boots, and a long-sleeved denim shirt over a white tee shirt. She stuffed her money into the sports bra she wore. She dug through her messenger-style bag for pens, distributing the ones she found in various pockets. And she tucked the LifeStraw she’d hidden in the pouch with her tampons into an easily accessible pocket.

  She’d learned, after her return from Africa. Taken self-defense classes for the terminally clumsy and weak. Discovered that everyday items—like ink pens—could be weapons. She’d started jogging, eventually working up to running—five kilometers without slowing or getting winded. She would never again be totally helpless.

  Getting up her nerve, she approached the open French doors and peeked out. Two guards, one at each end of the veranda running the length of the house on this side. She didn’t step out to look over the railing, betting there was a long drop down the hill. The balcony appeared to turn the corner to her left. Maybe she’d be able to find steps. Or something. All she had to do was evade the guards.

  Another thirty minutes ticked by. Hearing footsteps outside, she ducked behind the door and held her breath. One of the guards marched by. She caught a whispered conversation and as she watched, a second guard passed, walking in the opposite direction. Change of guard. She peeked out again. Two different men stood in the same spots.

  Maybe if she waited until dark, she could slip out, toss a rope made from sheets over the railing and drop down. Except it was mid-afternoon and anything could happen before dark.

  Perhaps she could lure one of the guards into the room, pretend to seduce him, and stab him in the throat with a pen, and slip out. Maybe she’d just wait for Morales to show up and stab him.

  Cory bit down on her bottom lip. She would not cry again. She would figure a way out of this mess. Thirsty and realizing she should stay hydrated, she wandered into the bathroom. The darn thing was as big as her first apartment, with a sunken whirlpool tub plus a shower an entire platoon could stand in, but more importantly, there was a window.

  Forgetting everything, Cory scrambled up on top of the toilet to peer out. No security bars. A short drop to the hillside below. But what excited her most? No guards in sight. The only problem? The window didn’t open. It was a single piece of glass fused in place. If she tossed something through it to break it, the guards would hear.

  She sat down on the commode to think, reviewing every episode of MacGyver and the few Die Hard movies she’d watched. Tape. She needed heavy tape. If she ever got out of this, she’d add duct tape to her list of must-pack items. Digging beneath the vanity sink and in drawers, she found a roll of white medical tape. It would have to do.

  Using her teeth, she tore off strips of tape and created a giant tic-tac-toe hashtag on the window then taped Xs in each square. It would have to do. After another search, including the colonel’s massive closet, she located a sturdy walking stick with a brass knob. Cory wished now she’d been less focused on academics and had paid at least some attention in PE class—specifically either golf or softball. She needed to be dead-on accurate with her swing.

  With her bag draped over one shoulder, the strap crossing her chest, she gripped the stick and swung.

  KIN SNIFFED around the base of the building while Moshe stood guard at the corner. Working with the dog and Loch, with Uri in their heads, was both strange and wonderful. Most members of a pack developed the ability for rudimentary mental communication in wolf form. Uri’s unique abilities coordinated Wolf and dog with the humans on the team.

  He heard the guards talking around the corner, and the acrid smoke from unfiltered cigarettes drifted into his nose, making him want to sneeze. He was about to retreat into the thick brush when something hard landed on top of him. Bloody hell! He backed away with a barely contained snarl.

  A broken pane of glass? Taped together? He glanced up just in time to scramble out of the way of a female body tumbling out of the window. Seemed the good doctor had decided to extricate herself.

  Get her moving and undercover, Kin.

  Uri didn’t have to tell him twice. He backed up so he could watch while Moshe stalked the woman. He’d let the dog do most of the work. Between the two of them, they could herd her toward Uri and Tank.

  Cory froze. Guard dogs. Big, scary ones. She hadn’t even considered the possibility. One was a Belgian Malinois. Brindle brown, he was beautiful, if terrifying. The second dog was black, huge, and… Her breath caught. He looked like a wolf.

  “Nice doggies.” Whispering, she pressed up against the wall. “Good doggies.” Cory caught her breath. At least they weren’t barking to alert the guards. “You don’t want to eat me. I promise I don’t taste very good.”

  Speak for yerself, lassie. I’d give you a taste. Echoes of Uri’s smug laughter reminded Kin he wasn’t alone in his own head. He backed further away so Moshe could move in to nudge her along. They didn’t have all bloody evening to stand around making small talk and smoochy noises.

  The Belgian obeyed Uri’s mental command. He stalked the redhead, edging her along the side of the building. They’d have to get her to move out into the open soon. Kin wondered what he could do to make her run. She’d be fun prey, an idea his wolf was totally on board with.

  Nipping and rushing her, Moshe moved the woman away from the wall. Kin came at her from the other side and working in conjunction they got her headed into the jungle. Two steps past the outer fringe she turned and fled. Moshe stayed right on her heels while Kin dodged around to lope parallel with her, in case they came upon any of the roving guards.

  Terrified, Cory ran deeper into the jungle. Maybe these weren’t trained K-9s. Maybe they were wild dogs and when they brought her down, they’d tear her apart. She glanced back over her shoulder. Only one dog chased her, and he almost looked like he was having fun. The thought was odd and distracted her enough that when she turned to see where she was going, it was too late to avoid the large tree branch looming in front of her.

  Kin winced as the woman smacked her head. She went down like she’d been pole-axed. Moshe immediately dropped down at her side and licked her face, whining softly. Kin’s wolf was whining a little too.

  Uri?

  Moshe showed me. Tank and I are coming.

  Kin dropped to his haunches, guarding their back trail. They likely had little time before her absence would be discovered. The away team needed to be up on the next ridge before that happened. With luck, they’d have time to come back to finish planting the explosives. Loch was currently setting charges on the outbuildings. They couldn’t plant anything on the house until after dark. The woman’s precipitous escape changed their timetable and not in a good way.

  Duke?

  Informed.

  Their mission was quickly devolving into a Benny Hill routine. A branch snapped nearby and Kin crouched, ready to spring. Tank stepped out from behind a palm frond, Uri a few steps behind. The big gunner checked the woman’s vitals then gathered her into his arms. With Uri leading the way, Tank followed. Kin and Moshe kept up a rear guard until their party reached the base of the ridge where Duke and Dalton waited in their position near the top.

  Staying with Loch.

  Uri glanced over his shoulder and nodded, murmuring Kin’s message to Tank. The jungle swallowe
d the three humans and the dog moments later. Kin put his nose to the wind and sniffed. Finding Loch’s scent, he trotted off to cover the other Wolf’s six.

  CORY MOANED, the sound a muted whimper, and she needed to throw up. She vaguely remembered getting chased through the jungle by wild dogs. Something had happened. With her eyes scrunched shut, she tried to remember, but the pain throbbing in her head made the process difficult. She heard voices, three of them heavily accented. She did her best to focus on what they were saying, but the words didn’t make much sense to her.

  She raised her hand to touch her forehead and encountered a cold pack. Maybe that’s why she had a brain freeze. Opening her eyes, she saw a man hunkered down on his heels beside her, and stared in complete and utter shock. Cory closed her eyes. This was simply not possible. Duke looked just like he had on that riverbank in Africa. She panicked. Maybe she was back in the Sudan. Maybe the past eighteen months hadn’t happened. Maybe she hadn’t made love to Duke. She flushed. Maybe he’d never been blinded.

  She opened her eyes again. Nope. This definitely wasn’t Africa. And Duke looked like he had that night on Key West, except he was staring at her, his gray eyes the color of storm clouds, his dark hair shaggy which, with his scruffy beard, gave him an unkempt and dangerous appearance.

  “We have to stop meeting like this, princess.”

  Her heart pounded at the nickname and his voice. Duke Reagan. It really was him. A part of her turned cartwheels because he’d obviously found treatment that restored his sight and had subsequently returned to duty. The rest of her was swooning like a Regency romance heroine. Duke lived in her dreams, the “hero” she judged all other men against. And here he was rescuing her. Again.

  Schooling her face, she searched his. He looked resigned to see her, and maybe disappointed. Something inside her lurched, and she clamped down on feelings of unease. The fine web of scars around his eyes was less visible than the last time she’d seen him. He looked utterly dashing, and she was so glad to see him she was almost hyperventilating. The State Department must have heard about her abduction and sent Duke and a SEAL team after her and despite her misgivings, she couldn’t hide the big smile spreading across her face. “Hello, Master Chief Reagan.”