Kill Shot (2 page)

Vasquez’s bedroom was bigger than her whole
apartment—the furniture oversized and ornate, the colors garishly
red. He was set up for sex. The interesting kind of sex by the
looks of it. Restraints and various whips and other tools lined one
whole wall, and torn condom packages littered the floor. It looked
like Vasquez had had a busy morning. Too bad his afternoon hadn’t
turned out so hot.

Gemino Vasquez’s body lay spread eagle on
his bed. He was naked, and his eyes were open and unseeing. A
single gunshot wound to the heart bled sluggishly. He hadn’t been
dead long. She couldn’t stop the bitter disappointment when she saw
the flash drive was gone from the chain on his right wrist.

“Dammit,” she whispered and moved to check
the covers of his bed just to make sure it hadn’t come off in the
struggle. But she knew in her heart it was long gone. She knew the
signs of a professional hit, and this job reeked of it. What pissed
her off even more was that whoever did it managed to sneak in right
under her nose. He had to have known she was watching and snuck in
through the one blind spot she had at the back of the compound.

The stir of air behind her was the only
warning she had before an arm locked around her throat.

“Looking for this?” a deep voice whispered
in her ear, holding the flash drive in front of her face.

He pressed close against her back and
squeezed his arm tighter around her throat so she had to breathe
shallowly through her nose. Grace winced as he pressed his fingers
against the pressure points of her wrist, and her pistol fell
uselessly to the floor with a dull thunk.

Fear never had a chance to take hold. It was
anger that drove Grace. Anger that had kept her alive the last
couple of years. And she knew how to wield it. She threw her head
back and aimed her heel at his knee simultaneously. He dodged her
blows as if he’d been expecting them, but the distraction was
enough for him to loosen his grip. She swept her leg and brought
him to his knees, reaching down for the knife in her boot. The
blade gleamed once in the fading sunlight just before it was
knocked out of her hand and across the room.

He outweighed her by close to eighty pounds,
and he had a good eight inches on her in height. They grappled and
rolled, each one blocking the other’s strikes with only seconds to
spare. It was a well-choreographed dance.

A familiar dance.

The surprise of recognition took her off
guard, and she looked up into laughing blue eyes framed by thick,
dark lashes she’d always been jealous of. She had time to register
that he’d let his hair grow—a shaggy mane of ink black that curled
just over his ears and collar, and a face that was covered in a
short, stubbled beard—just before her legs went out from under her.
She hit the carpet with a thud. A hard body pressed her into the
floor, and he held her wrists captive above her head.

“Hello, Grace.” His breath whispered against
her skin, and she couldn’t stop her traitorous body from reacting
to his familiar scent. Her nipples hardened, and she arched against
him. “You’ve been practicing. Who’s your new sparring partner?”

“What do you want, Gabe?” She tried to act
as if his growing erection against her thigh wasn’t having any
effect, but she could tell by the way he shifted against her that
her attempt failed. She bit her lip to stifle a moan as he pressed
against the very heat of her. He knew exactly how to weaken her
resolve. They’d always been able to read each other much too
well.

“I want you, of course.” His lips glanced
across her cheek to the corner of her mouth, and she sucked in a
breath that brought her body even closer to his. After everything
he’d done, he was still the only man who could make her feel less
than whole when their bodies weren’t fused together. She hated him
for it. She hated herself for it.

“Go to hell.” She struggled against him, but
he just shifted his weight to hold her down.

“I’ve been there, thanks. Christ you feel
good. Stop wiggling and we’ll talk. Don’t you want to at least hear
my offer?”

She stilled her body and relaxed, hoping
he’d get distracted long enough for her to make a move. “I don’t
want anything you have to offer. Just give me the flash drive.”

“I figure we have exactly four minutes to
get out of this place before the new guards show up for the shift
change and Armageddon begins. All I’m asking is that you come back
with me and listen to my offer. If you hear me out and still turn
me down, then I’ll give you the flash drive with no hard feelings,
and you can claim your bounty.”

Grace stared at him and tried to decide if
he was bluffing. “I don’t trust you.”

“You never have. But what I’m offering will
pay you more than double any of the jobs you’ve recently taken.
Just hear me out.”

“Fine. Just move your hard-on and let’s get
the hell out of here.”

“Darlin’, I have scars on my back from the
last time you asked me to move my hard-on. Be careful what you wish
for.”

“You son of a bitch.”

“So you’ve told me before. Let’s go before
Vasquez’s men get here. I’ve got a pickup scheduled in twenty on
the other side of the border.”

Grace had no choice but to follow him out of
one hell and into another.

***

The woman hadn’t changed a bit in seven
years. She still kept her deep auburn hair braided tightly down her
back while she was working. But he knew what it looked like spread
across his pillow, and he knew what it felt like as it slithered
like silk across his chest—glorious. He couldn’t have helped his
body’s instant arousal at the touch of her if he’d wanted to.

He looked at her critically, trying to
decipher exactly why his cock always stood at full attention when
she was near. It wasn’t just one thing, but the entire package. Her
face was thinner now—her cheekbones more pronounced—but it was
still the face of a sea goddess. Eyes the color of emeralds,
slightly tilted at the corners, and full lips that he’d dreamed
about for the past two years. She was every desire he’d ever had
wrapped in one tiny package.

He let his gaze drift down her body. She was
thinner all over. The lush curves that had haunted his memory were
gone, replaced by a compact body of pure muscle and athleticism.
She glanced back at him and raised her brow at where his eyes were
glued.

Gabe smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
He’d been wrong. She’d changed a lot. There was a hardness about
her now that hadn’t been there before. When she’d first started
with the CIA, there had been hope and an ideal of the greater good.
Now there was just emptiness—a cold, green stare that didn’t
believe in anything, and it scared the hell out of him. Because it
was no one’s fault but his own.

“We’ve just crossed the border into
Venezuela by my calculations,” she said, slowing to a jog. “How
much farther is your rendezvous point?”

“About another mile. Keep the sound of water
to your immediate left.” He put his hand on her arm before she
could take off again. “Wait.”

She stopped dead in her tracks, and Gabe
could tell she was trying to hear what he had. They were silent for
a few more seconds before the sound came again.

“Shit,” she said. “It’s the new guards. You
always did have ears like a bat.”

“What do you have on you?”

“My Sig and a hunting knife. How many do you
think there are?”

“No more than a dozen. They’re noisy
bastards. And not too fast.” He pulled his own pistol from the
small of his back and checked the clip. “I’ll give you a boost.” He
replaced his weapon in his pants and laced his fingers together. He
arched a brow as she just stared at him.

“I’m really tired of trees.” She blew out a
breath and put her foot into his hands. He launched her up so she
could reach the lowest branch, and she swung herself up like a
monkey.

“Do you have good visibility?” Gabe
asked.

“Yeah, I see them. You’ll have to draw them
close enough so I’m within range.”

“Try not to hit me by mistake.”

“Oh, it wouldn’t be a mistake,” she
said.

Gabe smiled and left her there to go meet
trouble head-on. He found cover behind a tree trunk the size of a
small car and waited patiently. Heavy footsteps crunched over
twigs, and he stuck out his foot as two of them passed by. One of
the guards tripped and went sprawling to the ground, and Gabe
struck out at the other with a palm to the chest, stopping his
heart instantly. He broke the neck of the one who was already down
before the man could rise off his knees.

Gabe ignored the steady stream of fire that
came from behind him, trusting Grace to not let anyone too close,
and he went searching for his next victim. Only a few minutes
passed before he stood in the middle of a ring of twelve guards—all
of them dead. None of them had had a chance to fire a shot.

Grace was waiting for him on the ground when
he caught up to where he’d left her. They both picked up their pace
and ran the last mile in silence. They slowed as they came to a
winding dirt road with deeply rutted tire tracks, making footing
tricky. Less than a minute later, a forest-green Humvee coated with
a thick layer of dust pulled up beside them. Gabe opened the back
door and Grace slid across the hot leather seat.

The driver turned and looked at Gabe,
waiting for instructions. Logan Grey had worked with him on other
missions. He was a quiet man, tall and sinewy with muscle. He wore
his dark blond hair long, not as a fashion statement, but to help
cover the terrible scars on the back of his neck. Logan was former
MI6, but an almost fatal accident had gained him retirement before
he was ready. Gabe hadn’t hesitated at snatching Logan up to join
the team. No one knew explosives better than Logan Grey.

“Get us out, and in a hurry,” Gabe said.
Logan glanced once at Grace and then nodded.

Gabe closed the window that divided the
front and back seat so he and Grace had complete privacy.

“Who’s your friend?” Grace asked.

“Logan Grey. Don’t worry. He’s heard all
about you and still agreed to help me find you.”

“I’m sure he’s a real stand-up guy.”

“He’ll grow on you. So what do you think?
This was just like old times. We always made a hell of a team.”

“Tell me what you want, and then let me go.
I’ve got a schedule to keep.”

“You don’t have another job lined up once
you deliver the flash drive to the South Koreans. Looks like you’re
at loose ends.” Gabe watched for a reaction closely, but she showed
no surprise that he’d been keeping up with her movements. She just
waited him out with silence and a hard look, and he decided to give
in to the unspoken standoff just this once.

“I’ve left the CIA,” he told her.

“I heard. Congratulations. Let me go.”

Gabe smiled and stretched out across the
seat, crowding her with the length of his legs, but she didn’t
budge an inch. “Did you hear I’d joined the private sector and
opened my own agency?”

She laughed, low and sexy, and the smoky
sound swirled around him until he was dizzy with desire. “So, good
boy Gabriel Brennan has decided to become a bad boy and go rogue. I
assume the agency is displeased by your decision?”

“Not at all. They know when something is out
of their control. My agency is privately funded. Even the CIA
recognizes the benefits unknown money can buy. Government agencies
are still hampered by rules. Sometimes there are jobs where the
rules need to be broken. That’s when they call me.”

“Well, bully for you. You always did manage
to get what you wanted.”

“Nothing could be further from the truth,
and you know it,” he said quietly. Gabe waited patiently for her to
make eye contact. It didn’t take her long. She’d never been a
coward.

“I don’t know anything about you, Gabe. I
never did. Our life was a lie.”

“How long are you going to pretend she’s not
sitting here between us?”

“Don’t mention her!” The quiver in her voice
was quickly controlled. “I’ll get out of this car and disappear off
the face of the planet. If you want me to stay, then the past stays
in the past. It’s nonnegotiable.”

“Fine. Whatever you say.”

The SUV slowed to a stop, and Gabe pushed
the door open, not waiting to see if she’d follow. It was a stupid
idea to think he could fix things—to heal the wounds that had been
bleeding for the last two years.

Gabe’s Gulfstream sat ready for takeoff on
the hard-packed dirt the small Venezuelan city called an airport.
He went up the stairs and then turned to face Grace, sure she’d
still be in the car. But she stood at the bottom of the steps, her
face carefully blank.

“You can either come with me or you can
leave. The choice is yours,” Gabe said without emotion, tossing her
the flash drive.

She caught it one handed and stared at him,
studying him, trying to read every angle of the situation as she’d
been trained to do at the agency. She finally nodded and started up
the steps. “I’ll come.”

Gabe let out a breath he didn’t know he’d
been holding and nodded before boarding the plane. He had a feeling
that before this job was over, she’d have one more reason to hate
him.

The Gulfstream was a luxury Gabe was glad he
didn’t have to do without. The interior was set up like an
apartment—a living area, kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom—and was
comfortably decorated in muted shades of gray and navy blue. He’d
spent more time in the comfortable space the last two years than he
had in his actual apartment. International terrorism and
intelligence had kept him busy, and working constantly helped him
to forget Grace. At least he liked to think it did.

Logan climbed aboard, ignoring both of them,
and immediately went to seat himself in the cockpit. A smile
twitched at Gabe’s lips. Logan was a man of few words.