Double Cross (Hard Target Book 1) Page 4

  “Are you all right?” She moved closer to him, touched his chest. “Let me see. Are you bleeding?”

  He jerked away. “I’m fine. You should sleep. I’ll call my HQ tomorrow, see about getting us airlifted out of here.”

  After disposing of the trash, she stretched out and dropped off—by the sounds of her breathing—moments later. With Cory down for the count, Duke had time to consider their predicament. He couldn’t think about the team. He couldn’t hope that some of them, maybe all but Wilco, had escaped much like he and the doctor had. Hope would cripple him and mourning could wait. He still had a duty to the woman sleeping a few feet away.

  He’d been surprised Cory hadn’t commented when he informed her about calling Command. It’s the first thing he should have done when they woke up on that damn sandbar. Instinct told him to get under cover. And instinct kept him from making that call. There was just something off about the attack by the river. His brain continued running through possible scenarios until he drifted into a light combat sleep.

  Duke jerked awake at dawn—so he thought judging from the sounds out in the bush. Damn but he hated not being able to see. Holding still, he listened intently. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He inhaled deeply, sorting through various scents. Again, nothing. Time to phone home. He nudged Cory.

  “Where’s Wilco’s pack? I should make that call.”

  A breathy yawn. Crinkling of the solar blanket. The rasp of nylon cord. “Here.” She shoved it toward him until it bumped his thigh. He’d use Wilco’s SAT phone instead of the one in his own pack. He planned to leave it behind in case an enemy tagged the signal and homed in on it. After some frustrated fumbling, he thrust it at Cory. “Take this. Turn it on.” Duke reeled off the number, and he heard the beeps as she punched it in. She hit the connect button and handed it back to him.

  A cautious voice answered on the eighth ring. “Yes?”

  “Tango Alpha One Charlie Ten.” After the opening greeting, Duke offered the correct confirmation code numbers and words. The line hummed in his ear for a long moment before a gruff voice replied.

  “What the hell, master chief?”

  “That’s what I’d like to know, sir. My team is dead. Griffin missiles. You want to explain that?”

  “We’re looking into it. Where are you?”

  “Good question. Dr. Prince is with me. We require extraction. You’ll need to triangulate the signal.”

  “No.”

  “No?” Duke’s voice turned deadly.

  “Your target is still active. No extraction until target is confirmed neutralized.”

  “Sir, I don’t think you fucking understand. My team is dead. I’ve got a civilian in tow and I’m blind.”

  “Blind?”

  “Yessir. Injured in the missile strike.”

  “Stand by.”

  The line went to dead air.

  “Duke?” Cory sounded scared, and he couldn’t really fault her for the emotion. He did not like the tone of the commander’s voice.

  This whole deal was fucked from the git-go. Duke scrubbed at the top of his head, careful not to dislodge the bandages across his eyes. The last thing he needed was the princess bitching at him.

  Static crackled on the line. “Master Chief Reagan, you have your orders.”

  “Say again, Charlie Ten?”

  “Locate the original target and execute. There will be no extraction until confirmation.”

  What the hell? Did Command not realize he was literally fucking blind at the moment? How did they expect him to assassinate Cudjo—provided he could even find the sonavabitch?

  “Do you copy?” That was the last clear transmission. The SAT phone spewed static.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Duke tilted his head toward the sound of Cory’s voice. At least he could still hear. And smell. That didn’t do shit when it came to tracking his target, lining up the shot, and taking it.

  “We’re stuck here for awhile.” Her sharp intake of breath stirred things deep inside—things that needed to stay buried, like wanting the doctor flat on her back and him between her legs, things like the absolute certainty he would protect her. “I have to finish the mission.”

  “But…”

  “Yeah, I’m fucking blind. But I’m supposed to take out Cudjo.” He dialed the phone again. “Gawddammit Charlie Ten, answer the fucking phone.” Three ring tones and then nothing. Not even static. He sensed her movement as she stood and walked away from him. Wind ruffled his hair, and he heard the savanna grass sigh in response.

  Cory stared across the broad plain—or tried to. The man sitting behind her kept drawing her gaze. Duke Reagan was everything she abhorred in a man. Rough. Big. Crude. But he and his men had pulled her out of Cudjo’s village. He’d led her to what should have been safety. And then he’d put his body between hers and danger. She owed him.

  “It won’t be easy getting close enough.” She glanced over her shoulder.

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Cudjo. We’ll need to draw him out.”

  “It wouldn’t matter if he was standing right in front of me, princess. I can’t fucking see the bastard, and if I can’t see him, I can’t kill him.”

  “Don’t call me that. And there has to be a way.”

  Duke’s lips curled into a snarl. Damn it all to hell. He tried the phone again. Still nothing. Command probably killed the link. He turned off the SAT phone and threw it as far as he could. “We need to keep moving.” He listened as she gathered up things and then stood when she touched his shoulder.

  “I’ll scuff up the grass. A moment.”

  Her touch disappeared, and Duke fought the urge to sneeze as she kicked up dust. Cory returned to his side and placed his hand on her shoulder.

  “Lead on, princess.” He laughed silently as she huffed out an exasperated breath. If he was honest, he’d admit he enjoyed upsetting her. Hell, it was about the only thing he enjoyed at the moment. He tried not to think about the blindness. If it was permanent, he’d be fucked nine ways from Sunday.

  He’d gotten some flashes—like jagged lightning—against the backs of his eyelids the previous day as they walked. When he’d mentioned it to Cory, she thought it was a good sign. But what the hell did she know? She was a pediatrician. A kid doctor. He was so wrapped up in his own pity party it took him almost a mile to realize they were walking the wrong direction. Duke stopped, his hand dropping away as Cory continued walking.

  “Duke?” Cory halted and turned around. “Are you in pain? What’s wrong?”

  She stepped close enough he could grab her. He fisted his fingers in the front of her shirt, ignoring the swell of her breast brushing against his knuckles with each breath she took. “We’re going the wrong way. You’re leading us back the way we came.” His voice filled with disgust. How stupid could she be?

  “I know.”

  Duke opened his mouth then snapped it closed, speechless.

  “If you’re going to kill Cudjo, we have to return to the last village.”

  Words still wouldn’t come so he simply stood unmoving, still fisting her shirt.

  “He’ll come to us. We won’t have to track him down.”

  “And just how the hell am I supposed to kill him? Thanks to this Charlie Foxtrot I can’t fucking see. If you hadn’t been in that village—” He felt her wince, and her gasp did nothing to cool his anger. Something hot and wet splashed on his hand. Cory tried to jerk away, but he easily held her in place with one hand. He should apologize for losing control, for laying blame where none was due. Before he could, her next words froze his thoughts.

  “Then I’ll kill him.”

  Her breathy voice teased the skin on his arm, and he wasn’t sure he heard her right. Her hands gripped his wrist and squeezed. He didn’t turn loose of her shirt.

  “You can’t.”

  “I have to. I—” A small sob escaped, but she swallowed most of it. “As you just pointed out, this is entirely my
fault. I slowed up your team. You had to take care of me instead of them.” Her heart fluttered beneath his knuckles and she inhaled deeply before rushing on.

  “If we’re going to get out of here, I have to kill him. And there’s no sense in walking around in circles. We’ll go back to that last village—the one we sneaked past last night. No, listen.” She cut him off before he could even form his argument. “I know we can’t stay there. He’ll murder them to get to us. But someone there will tell him we passed through. We’ll find a good place to hide, and we’ll wait for him to come after us.”

  He didn’t want to agree, but damned if she didn’t have a decent plan—or the beginnings of one. Except for one thing. “What about your Hippocratic Oath?”

  Her body shuddered beneath his fingers several times before she inhaled deeply. “When a surgeon removes a cancerous tumor, he takes healthy tissue with it to be sure. Cudjo is nothing more than a deadly tumor. Maybe I’ll get lucky.”

  Duke’s hand tightened, and he jerked her closer. If not for his arm pressed between, their bodies would be flush. “You are not taking on that bastard alone, princess.”

  She tensed and heat radiated from her. His free hand cupped her cheek, and it was like touching a hot plate. Was she that angry or that sunburned? She leaned into his touch. “I won’t be. Besides, you have to teach me how to use that big, honking gun of yours.”

  Chapter 5

  OH, YEAH, he’d like to teach her all about that big, honkin’ gun of his. His giant hard-on reminded him of that each step he took as Cory led them right smack dab into the middle of the village. He heard yammering, sensed people pressing close to them. God but he hated this. He imagined a damn big target on his back, and what was worse? The target Cory painted on herself. He didn’t want to admire her, but the woman had guts. She hadn’t freaked out yet—well much anyway. She made up her mind and followed through with the decision without bitching. And she remained convinced that if she could get him back to civilization, there was a chance he’d regain his sight.

  The bright zigzagged flashes he occasionally saw superimposed in the darkness had her hopeful. He wasn’t ready to go there yet. Hell, they had to survive this harebrained scheme first. A man’s voice intruded on his ruminations. Probably the village’s head man. Cory seemed comfortable conversing with him in a weird combination of the local dialect and pidgin English.

  His brain picked out a word here and there but he mostly remained on autopilot listening for any sounds that seemed out of place. Cory gasped and backed into him. His groin collided with her nicely rounded ass and perked right up. Duke couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a woman. He damn sure hadn’t gotten any on that brief R&R right before the Virginia fiasco. He was a guy—typically so—and completely unapologetic for his appetites. He liked women. He liked fucking them. But doing the doc? Naw. That wasn’t gonna happen. No matter how much his dick might argue about it.

  Slipping his arm around Cory’s waist to steady her, he caught her quick inhalation. “What’s up, Doc?”

  He didn’t mean to whisper the question into her ear, or to be funny. He didn’t mean to tighten his arm around her waist or press his hips closer to hers. And she damn sure didn’t need to press back against him. Her next words, though, snapped him back into attack mode.

  “There’s a convoy headed this direction. From Hassbala.”

  “Where exactly are we?”

  “Aluki. The headman doesn’t know if it’s government troops or Cudjo.”

  “Neither is good for us. We need to get out of sight.”

  “Yes.” She shifted away from him, spat out a rapid-fire string of words then took his hand. “The villagers expect whoever is coming to arrive tomorrow.”

  “Good. We have time to get out of sight. Walk us out of here, princess. Down the road on the other side of the village, just like that’s the way we’re headed. Once we’re out of sight, we’ll find cover.”

  “Very well.”

  After another conversation, Cory discreetly placed the hand she’d been holding on her shoulder. He followed when she started walking. He guessed they’d gone about a mile when she veered off the road.

  “There’s a lot of green foliage here, and a small hill with underbrush and some trees. It should make a good vantage point.”

  “Is there someplace similar closer to the village? We need clear line of sight to the road and where vehicles would stop. No offense, princess, but you need to be as close as possible if you have any hope of hitting a stationary target. There’s no way you can hit one that’s moving.”

  Cory chewed her lips, wincing a little when she realized how chapped they were. She needed to hydrate and suspected that Duke needed water even more than she did. She had no hope of hitting the target and regretted the crazy suggestion that she was capable of doing so. She wasn’t sure she could even pull the trigger, but something about the SEAL’s insistence they do this alarmed her. He truly believed they wouldn’t be rescued unless they managed to assassinate Cudjo.

  She also didn’t understand his reticence about government troops. Granted, her understanding of local politics and America’s stance was limited. She was a doctor, one motivated by a need to help sick children. Something was going on, something Duke wouldn’t talk about. His conversation with his command structure left far more questions than any answers he gave her.

  “I’m not sure. We should get off the road and up on the hill. We’ll eat. Drink some water. I’ll look around. Okay?”

  “Lead the way.”

  A few minutes later, she did her best not to gag on the MRE, gulping down bites with sips of water. The Lifestraws were literally lifesavers. The filtration system allowed them to drink any available water with no ill effect. After eating and once again burying their trash, Cory checked Duke’s wounds. The lacerations around his eyes looked puffy, and his forehead felt hot. Unlike her, he’d been tan to begin with so she doubted the heat resulted from sunburn, especially since he looked ashen. The wound in his side seeped pus, and the skin around it was red and inflamed. That was troubling. She packed the last of the antibiotics into the wound and placed fresh bandages on it.

  Assassination or not, Duke needed a real hospital with intravenous medication and, possibly, surgical intervention to deal with the infection. Nasty strains of bacteria lived in African river water, and they’d spent an entire night submerged in it.

  “High ground, princess. You need to find it.”

  “I do wish you’d stop calling me that.”

  “I do wish you’d do as you’re told.” He mimicked her tone and voice almost perfectly.

  “Are you making fun of me?”

  “Now why would I do that? You’re such an easy target it’s hardly worth the effort.”

  She pinched her lips together and glowered, not that he could see her expression. She aped him and made faces.

  “Now who’s making fun of who?”

  Her heart pounded for a moment. “You can see me?” She was so excited she forgot to be embarrassed for getting caught in her childish antics.

  “Yeah. Right. I have X-ray vision.” He tugged on the gauze wrapped around his head.

  She blushed all the way to the roots of her hair. Clueless moment. She’d bandaged his eyes. Of course he couldn’t see her. “What about when I had the bandages off? Could you discern any light?”

  His jaw clenched, and the planes of his face might have been carved from stone. “No.”

  “I’m sorry, Duke. I…if you hadn’t rescued me, maybe you wouldn’t be injured. Maybe your men—”

  “Shut up. Just shut the fuck up.” He gritted the words between his teeth like he was chewing nails.

  His body fairly vibrated with anger. Cory decided now would be a good time to exercise that whole discretion/valor thing. She filled another bottle of water and placed it in his lap. “I’ll go find us a place for tomorrow.”

  Duke didn’t say anything as she pushed to her feet. She was tired, beyond exhaust
ed. She wanted a hot shower and clean clothes and a real bed in a real house. She wanted air conditioning and cold water and hot coffee. She wanted food on a plate she could eat with a knife and fork. But first, she had to kill a man.

  “I’ll be back.” She shuffled into the underbrush.

  “Don’t get lost, princess.”

  THEY CHANGED locations at dawn. The princess had managed to find a decent sniper’s nest. Rocks—snake and critter free—screened by bushes, about fifty feet higher than the village with a clear field of fire into the center of town where the road ran through it. Duke schooled her on the calculations necessary to actually hit the target. They were slightly less than 400 yards away, with a downhill slope and little to no wind. If the target showed up in the next hour, the adjustments he’d had Cory make to the sights would give them a chance. Now, he had to get her used to the rifle.

  “Tuck the butt up against your shoulder.” Duke waited a moment, listening as she squirmed into position. “Cheek against the stock, eye on scope.”

  “Okay.”

  “Now put your finger on the trigger.” He could almost feel her trepidation. “The safety is on. Nothing will happen.”

  “If you say so.” Cory sounded snippy, and definitely unsure.

  “I say so.” Duke stretched out beside her. “You can do this.” He felt her shift, and her hair tickled his nose. She smelled of dust, sweat, and a sweet musk that tightened parts of his body he needed to ignore. Cory Prince was off limits. She was simply a tool—one he must utilize to fulfill his mission.

  “They’ll be moving?”

  “Yeah, probably. I’ll show you how to adjust for it. We want him to get out of his vehicle for a clear shot.” A delicate shudder followed his reply, and he felt it in his core. He didn’t want to do this. Didn’t want to use her. But he didn’t have a choice. At least that’s what he told himself. He’d been blinded in the explosion. And a blind sniper couldn’t take out the target. They couldn’t go home until Cudjo was dead and he wouldn’t get another chance. Cory would have to sight-in the scope if the situation changed. And she believed she’d have to pull the trigger. Duke refused to consider what this would do to the doctor’s psyche, even peripherally.