Secret Identity (28 page)

Almost there, he thought, pushing forward through the underbrush.

He just hoped it wouldn’t be too late.

AMANDA CROUCHED DOWN on the ledge and tucked herself out of sight while she waited for Damon to send her a signal, checking her watch every few minutes to keep from going crazy with the waiting. Around the fifteen-minute mark, she heard a noise.

Coming from below her.

Carefully, she peered over the edge of the narrow ledge where she crouched. About fifteen feet below her, a dark-haired man she didn’t recognize was climbing the wall of the bluff at a surprising rate of speed. He looked to be in his early thirties, well-built and muscular. And he was dressed head to toe in woodsy camouflage, blending into his surroundings.

MacLear SSU, she thought, panic rising in her chest. She tried to focus the sudden kick of adrenaline pumping through her, knowing how easily a person’s brain could disengage when danger started closing in. Fight or flight—either were good instincts, but which was best?

If she stood her ground and fought, she had a couple of advantages. She was already on a relatively stable perch, her hands free to fire at the man climbing rapidly up the bluff. And she knew he was coming, but so far he’d shown no sign of knowing she was there, focused as he was on where to place his hands and feet. But gunfire would alert anyone lurking nearby that she was there. And she couldn’t fire on a man who wasn’t about to shoot her first, could she? What if he were nothing more than a recreational climber?

She heard the sound of loose rocks clattering against the stony face of the bluff and dared a quick look down at the climber. He was pressed against the side of the bluff, waiting out a small avalanche of loose rocks cascading downward, pelting him with light blows.

Suddenly, he looked up. He locked gazes with Amanda, his eyes widening with surprise.

She sprang into action, scrambling over the edge of the bluff and rolling to her feet on the grassy back lawn of the cabin. She darted a quick look around to check for signs of any other intruders before dashing to the back door of the cabin.

It was locked, but there was no dead bolt. The lock could be breached easily, and then she could find something to block the door to keep intruders out.

Darting quick looks back and forth between the door and the edge of the bluff, she pulled out her utility knife, found a thin blade and made quick work of the flimsy lock. She slipped inside and closed the door behind her, locking it and looking around desperately for a way to block it.

She found herself inside a small kitchen, with a breakfast nook to her right and the cooking area to her left. Next to the door, a small refrigerator stood, unplugged.

She rounded it and heaved against the appliance as hard as she could. It was lighter than she’d expected, clearly empty. It scraped over about a foot, effectively blocking the back door from easy entry.

She pulled her SIG from her holster and made a quick dash to the front. Fortunately, that door was locked with a dead bolt, which wasn’t unbreachable but would pose a bigger problem than the back door had. She made a quick check of the window locks, as well. Glass windows weren’t going to pose any real problem for someone who wanted in the house, but at least they’d offer her early warning of intruders.

Keeping an ear out for any sounds of forced entry, she climbed the steps to the second floor, where she found four small bedrooms, all empty, and a pretty good view of the woods on all four sides of the house. She checked the back to see if the man in camouflage had topped the edge of the bluff. He should have been at the top by now, shouldn’t he?

She saw nothing. No movement. No sign of anything out of place. Releasing a pent-up breath, she went to the other window in the room to look to the west. The clearing around the cabin extended only twenty yards before it melted into woods. In mid-March, the trees were past the initial budding period, bright green leaves sprouting on every tree that had lost leaves during the winter, making it harder to see movement among the trees.

Harder. But not impossible.

She spotted movement through the trees about fifty yards away. The bright sunlight outside probably created enough reflection on the windows to hide her presence from observers, but she took a step backward anyway, her attention pinned to the men in camouflage moving with predatory grace through the woods.

A faint scraping noise from downstairs made her freeze. It sounded like metal on metal, then a soft creak.

A door opening.

She checked the SIG’s clip. Full, and one in the chamber. Moving as slowly as she could, she edged to the doorway of the bedroom and into the narrow hallway.

The sounds from downstairs had ceased, but she could still feel a presence in the house. She didn’t dare head down the stairs—they’d creaked a bit on the way up and would almost certainly give away her location.

Her breathing shallow, she edged sideways until she was at the middle of the hallway, close to the stairs. She glanced up at the second set of stairs rising to what she assumed was an attic. Would there be somewhere to hide up there?

A soft creaking footfall below whipped her attention back to her present problem.

Someone was coming up the stairs.

Chapter Seventeen

Amanda edged back down the hallway and slipped inside the first room, scuttling behind the bed for cover. Minimizing her profile, she watched for movement through the sliver of hallway visible from her vantage point.

She saw a boot. A camouflage-clad leg. The barrel of a Walter P99.

Then Rick Cooper’s profile.

She released a sigh of relief. Immediately, Rick whipped around the doorway, his gun leveled at her.

“It’s me! Don’t shoot.” She raised her hands, the SIG still clutched in her right one.

Rick lowered his gun, slumping against the door frame and uttering a quiet, heartfelt profanity. He holstered his gun and took a step toward her. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, but how did you get in here? This place is surrounded by SSU agents. There are a few men to the west now, too,” she warned.

Rick grimaced.

“There are a few to the east, but I came in from the west.”

“How’d you get through the front door lock so easily?”

He reached in the pocket of his camouflage jacket and pulled out a key. “My cousins own the place.”

“How’d you find me?” She rose and walked around the bed, tamping down the urge to fling herself into his arms. “I didn’t even know where we were going until we got here.”

“We weren’t sure—”

“We?”

“My cousins Jake and Gabe are out there. Jake’s lying low in the woods, keeping an eye on the SSU guys. You’ve already seen Gabe—he’s the one who chased you up the bluff.”

She shook her head. “He’s lucky I didn’t want to make any noise—he could have had a face full of lead.”

“You’d shoot first and ask questions later?” He arched one dark eyebrow at her.

“No,” she admitted, digging her feet in where she stood to keep from gravitating closer to him. The pull she felt, the overwhelming urge to bury herself in his embrace, was as strong as a riptide.

“We discussed it with Luke, and he thought Damon might bring you here,” Rick finished answering her previous question. “Damon and Luke teamed up here, along with Luke’s wife, Abby, and took on MacLear.”

Good deduction, she thought. “He told me he thought it would be a hiding place the SSU guys would buy—connected to you, at least peripherally, and they’d come across Coopers hiding there before.”

“And here you are.”

“Well, technically, I was supposed to be staying at the bottom of the bluff, waiting for Damon’s signal.”

“Where’s Damon’s backup?” Rick asked. “All we’ve seen is a small group of SSU agents.”

“There is no backup.” She told him about Damon’s plan. “I’m afraid I’ve put it in jeopardy by being here, but when I saw someone climbing the bluff—”

“You had to take cover,” Rick finished for her, reaching out to brush back a strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail. “You should have waited for me.”

She struggled against leaning into his touch. She’d had a bit of time to think while she was waiting for word from Damon. And one thought kept coming back to her, over and over.

She was putting the Coopers in danger, just being here.

She closed her eyes, feeling as if everything she’d been trying to do was spiraling out of control. “We still don’t know who’s after me or why. I’m hoping Damon can find that out if his plan works, but it could be a while before they trust him.”

“But we do know who’s after you,” Rick said, catching her hand in his. “At least, we’re pretty damned sure we do.”

“Who?”

“Ever heard of Khalid Mazir?”

She frowned. “No. Should I have?”

“He’s a major contender for the presidency of Kaziristan. Son of a martyred democratic leader. Educated in Britain, moderately attractive without being considered a playboy type. Real model citizen.”

“Why on earth would he want to kill me?” she asked, completely confused by the description.

“Because,” Rick said, pulling out his cell phone and pushing a couple of buttons, “this is what Khalid Mazir looks like.” He held up the phone so she could see the display.

The man on the screen smiled back at her, his dark eyes crinkled with mirth. He was, indeed, moderately attractive.

He was also The Tiger, the ruthless terrorist who’d personally overseen almost two weeks of torture inflicted on her in a Kaziri safe house.

“Son of a bitch,” she breathed.

Rick tucked the phone back into his T-shirt pocket and stepped forward, pulling her into his arms. “Now that we know who’s after you, and why, we’re going to get him. I promise.”

She pressed her cheek against his chest, stunned by the revelation. “He’s Zoli Mazir’s son?”

“Yes.”

“Zoli was one of the good guys.” She felt a chill wash over her, scattering goose bumps. “A real reformer from within the government who wanted true peace and plurality and everything we want to see happen in that part of the world. How could his son have turned out to be such a repressive monster?”

“People get radicalized. We’ve all seen it before.”

Three sharp bursts of static erupted from the two-way radio in her pocket. At nearly the same time, Rick’s phone buzzed against her cheek.

Three static bursts meant get the hell out and call in the cavalry. She looked up at Rick, who was looking at his phone with a deep frown. “What is it?” she asked.

“A text from Jake. A crew of seven SSU agents is converging on the cabin.”

“We have to get out—”

A crashing noise from downstairs interrupted her, sending another cold shudder down her spine.

“Too late,” Rick whispered, locking his gaze with hers. “They’re already here.”

AFTER LISTENING FOR SEVERAL seconds to make sure his ears weren’t deceiving him, Rick pulled out his phone and hit the speed dial number for Gabe. He nodded toward the hallway. “Cover me.”