Deadly Aim (Bad Karma Special Ops Book 2)

by Tracy Brody

  If only Colonel Ball had detected some fallacy in her plan to keep her, the Special Operations team, and their families safe … Something so she wouldn’t have to leave Mack. Instead, he sealed her decision to press on. “If my new unit is based overseas, that’d put a lot of distance between us. Eventually, Herrera’s got to give up if he doesn’t get what he wants.”

  It’d be too late for her and Mack by then, but things with them had been a long shot anyway—even for a skilled sniper. The idea of telling him she’d made this decision choked her with dread.

  “You’d still face risks that accompany a deployment.”

  “I’m aware.” Those were better odds—for everyone.

  He covered his mouth with one crooked finger and nodded. Seconds passed with nothing but silence before he dropped his fist to lightly pound on the desk. “All right. I’ll have to find out which units are deployed and contact them. There may not be an opening right now, but that’ll change sooner than later. I can’t guarantee you’ll get a MEDEVAC slot anytime soon.”

  “There are other ways to save lives.” Starting with those personally important to her.

  He nodded. “I hate to lose you. Heard how you have a real knack with the newbies. Taking them beyond the mechanics of flying. I was looking forward to flying with you myself.”

  Her heart broke even more. She’d managed to both impress and disappoint her tough commanding officer in a matter of weeks. Worse, she was giving up her shot at love again and indefinitely postponing her dream job, all because of a drug lord bent on vengeance.

  Thirty-Three

  Mack executed a complete surveillance pass around the perimeter of the airfield. He wished Kristie had been able to confirm the make and model of her previous tail, but they’d narrowed it down to four models.

  Neither of the two black SUVs he’d passed was the right make. He still checked out every dark SUV and looked for any car, truck, van, or motorcycle idling on the roads near the airfield or people walking close to the security fence around it.

  If Tony was right, Herrera’s minions probably bought a vehicle for a few grand at one of the hundred used-car dealers in the area. There were too damn many to check that might have sold a black SUV recently. By now, they could have traded or bought another if they thought she’d picked up on them tailing her.

  He texted Kristie to let her know he was in position for tonight’s escort across post to their training compound. She texted right back.

  He waited until he saw her passing through the security gate, then led her for the first mile. When she pulled alongside him at a stoplight, he ignored her idling next to him. From a safe distance, he followed, constantly scrutinizing the area around them as thoroughly as a mission in Afghanistan. He hadn’t spotted any suspicious vehicles when she drove through the gate to post, and it pissed him off. He wanted to end this. To know Kristie was safe. To know his girls were safe.

  It’d also help get things back on solid ground with Kristie. It had only been a few days since she’d moved to the inn, but she wouldn’t come to his house now. She had a point. It’d be reckless to give Herrera’s men any opportunity to link them. He had to put Amber and Darcy’s safety over his desires.

  But Kristie staying at the Landmark Inn totally sucked since she wouldn’t risk that he’d be seen going to her room, either. He would get to spend time with her tonight while he assisted Vincenti with her survival training session, and maybe convince her to hang out afterward—without Vincenti around.

  They parked outside the command post and headed in side by side. Unfortunately, there were too many people around for him to do more than act as a bodyguard. No holding hands, kissing, or even asking how she was.

  “Is there a place we can talk privately for a few minutes before you leave?” she asked before they got to the building.

  Maybe she was thinking along the same lines as him. “I’m staying to help with tonight’s training. We can, uh, talk afterward.”

  “That’d be better. Then we won’t keep Tony waiting.”

  “Sounds like a good plan,” he said, though the tone of her voice hadn’t conveyed the same message as his thoughts. Still, he brushed his fingertips along her back when he held open the door for her.

  Inside the command post, Mack led her to a different conference room this time. One marked Bravo Team.

  Whoa. Most of Mack’s team stood around. Good thing she hadn’t told him yet about her decision to transfer and deploy. She had to tell him, but he’d need time to process it before she broke the news to Ray and the others. She didn’t expect Mack to lay down his arms because she essentially conceded this battle to prevent Herrera from winning the war. Not when their relationship became collateral damage.

  “What’d I miss?” Mack asked, glancing around at his team.

  “Not much,” Ray said. “Only news from Intel is they managed to wipe all information on Hunter from the hospital’s records. It doesn’t sound like anybody’s asked about him there, and even if they had, Hunter is a common enough name that he’d be difficult to track down. Rozanski’s calling Hunter to let him know, but the plan is for him and his family to stay at the cabin for now.”

  While Ray talked, she took in the personal touches in the room, from the few team pictures on the wall to the folded American flags on the shelves with notes tucked in the ends. She paused on a boonie hat with a bullet hole through the brim. A shiver shook her body before she tore her gaze away to rove over other mementos from missions she’d never hear about. Missions no one outside this room would ever hear about.

  Juan ambled over to her. “Get to practice any of those evasive driving maneuvers on the way in?”

  “Not tonight. Mack was the only one following me.”

  “I’m telling y’all, she’s as badass behind the wheel as she is in the air,” Juan announced to the room.

  She didn’t know how to interpret that. “Thanks, I guess.”

  “It’s definitely a compliment. Looking forward to the defensive part next week.”

  She didn’t want to waste their time. She should tell them about the pending change of station. But it could take weeks. Better to do all she could to stay safe until she knew about a transfer—and tell Mack first.

  “You need me to help with whatever you guys are doing tonight?” Juan offered.

  “Nooo!” Tony said with a near growl. “She’s got enough to deal with without you hitting on her.”

  “Hey. I haven’t done or said—”

  “Yet,” Tony talked over Juan.

  “We know your MO, Dominguez,” Porter said, laughing.

  “Juan was all business.” Kristie knew enough about team dynamics to get that sometimes the men didn’t click on a personal level, but they came together to get the job done. Tony and Juan clearly butted heads—a lot like real brothers.

  The other night, one-on-one in the car, Juan was professional and focused on imparting safety skills. No wisecracks or come-ons. She’d bet there was more to the guy than the player persona Juan projected.

  The room went to total silence before the dubious men erupted in laughter. Mack didn’t laugh; instead, he stared hard at her.

  She tilted her head at him. Really?

  He shrugged bashfully before speaking up. “Thanks for offering, but I’m helping Vincenti with tonight’s SERE training.”

  Ray shifted his gaze from Mack to Tony, then over to her. “I told the colonel someone would be here if he got an update. I’ll, uh, text him to pass anything on to you. Dismissed.” He gave a wave of the hand and herded the rest of the team from the room.

  “Let’s get started. Empty your backpack,” Tony ordered.

  So much for easing into it. Kristie looked to Mack for support.

  “Impress him,” he said.

  She unloaded the contents onto the table.

  Tony inspected each item. “Good.” He loaded the water bottle and two energy bars back inside. He flipped over the gallon-sized storage baggie. “What’s t
his?”

  “T-shirt, shorts, and flops.”

  A huge grin spread across Tony’s face. “Quick change?”

  “There’s more than one kind of camouflage.”

  “If you weren’t seeing my best friend, I’d so ask you out. Don’t tell Dominguez I said that. I have something to add.” He rummaged inside his own pack, then pulled out a package. “This is a wig. I went with black hair and bangs. Figured it’d be less likely to catch the eyes of the guys following you. You can try it on later.” He winked, though she wasn’t sure if it was at her or Mack.

  “This looks like a regular key fob, but it’s actually a GPS tracker.” He showed her the small black device. “Range isn’t great, though.”

  “I’ve got Porter working on something more discreet she can keep on her,” Mack interjected.

  “Great.” Tony picked up her keys to add the tracker and checked the label on her pepper spray. “Keys should be in your hand whenever you’re outside. This spray is good, but this one’s better.” He changed out the canister attached to her keychain. “You know how to use this?”

  “Spray it in their face.”

  “Grip it in your palm and use your thumb to depress the trigger. It’s got a range of about ten feet. Aim right for their eyes. There’s enough for like twenty sprays, so coat them good then move aside. They won’t be able to see clearly for thirty minutes and will have trouble breathing immediately, so get the hell away.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He gave her a side-glance. “Let’s get started with the fun stuff.” He produced a roll of duct tape from his pack. “Go ahead and take off your boots.”

  She swallowed. What the hell was coming now?

  “You right-handed?”

  She nodded, and Tony reached for her left boot once she tugged it off. He proceeded to wrap the duct tape around a razor blade, then took another piece to secure the blade to the arch inside her boot. “That’ll cut through rope, plastic ties, and can be used as a weapon. And we have a paracord bracelet—with …” He unfastened it with dramatic flair and pulled a small key from the clasp. “You know what this is?”

  What felt like an arctic chill wrapped around her body. “A handcuff key.”

  “Yup. Just in case. And the paracord can be used if you have to saw through duct tape or plastic flex-cuffs. We’ll change out your laces for paracord, too,” he said as if this was routine thinking.

  Mack took both boots and the tan laces Tony handed him.

  “Here. This patch is thermal reflective. We can see heat signatures, but this will identify you as a friendly even from a mile high.”

  She replaced the current camouflage flag patch on her sleeve with this new one. While aviators used FLIR technology to identify friendlies in all weather conditions, they didn’t typically need to be identified in the dark. This role reversal opened her eyes to a more sinister worldview.

  Tony gave her a critical once-over. “Turn around.” She turned for him. “Let me have your hair-clip thing.”

  She removed the barrette securing her braid and handed it to him.

  “This should work. Grab me some Gorilla glue.”

  Mack hustled out of the conference room while Tony measured off a piece of glint tape the length of the barrette. He took the tube of glue Mack brought back and coated the top of the barrette, then carefully placed the tape on top of the plastic.

  “We’ll trim the tape once it’s dry, and you’ll have a new fashion-accessory identifier like the patch for when you aren’t in uniform.” He sounded pleased with himself. “Next, we’re going to teach you how to get out of tape or flex-cuffs if you don’t have access to that razor blade. Mack’ll demonstrate.” He spun a chair out into the open space. “People don’t typically carry around rope, which takes longer to use. Fortunately, most people also don’t know how easy duct tape is to get out of.”

  Mack sat, and Tony wrapped him with tape, first binding his wrists around the chair arms, then his trunk to the back of the chair, and lastly, his ankles. This should be good.

  “Jerk your arms up like a gorilla beating on its chest.” The tape ripped like it was paper. “Then lean back and give a quick jerk of your torso toward your lap.”

  Mack did just that, making it look super easy.

  “Whoa.” Mental note: duct tape worked to fix an aircraft, not to secure a person.

  Grinning, Mack wadded the ripped strands of tape into a ball and tossed it at Tony. “For my feet, all I have to do is stand. Put my hands together and then shove them down between my knees. It’ll force my legs apart and break the tape. Like this.”

  With one swift motion, he broke the tape, and his legs were free.

  Okay, that was pretty damn hot, especially the way the long-sleeved combat shirt hugged every inch of muscle on his arms and chest. Way sexier than the standard camouflage jacket.

  “You want to show her the hands?” he asked Tony.

  “Let her try this one.” He tossed the roll of tape to Mack. “She’s your girlfriend. You can do the honors.” Insinuation dripped from Tony’s voice as if he’d read her thoughts.

  Mack cleared his throat but couldn’t keep the suggestive grin off his face as he sauntered over to her. “Vincenti hates having the hairs ripped out of his arms. For your hands, it’s a slightly different technique. Hands together. You want to let them make it tight.” He tugged her uniform sleeves down before he wrapped the duct tape around her wrists. Then around again and a third time. “And one more time for good measure.”

  The intensity in his eyes before he finished inspired all kinds of lascivious thoughts.

  “You gotta raise your arms above your head as high as you can.”

  Images of him backing her against a wall filled her mind as she complied. Only instead of moving closer, he backed away. She didn’t dare look in Tony’s direction.

  “Next, you’ll jerk your arms down against your ribcage. Hard. Go ahead and try it.”

  She inhaled, closed her eyes, and pulled her arms down as hard and fast as she could. Boom! The tape ripped and hung from her left wrist. “Wow!” That was even more empowering than the evasive-driving lessons with Juan and AJ.

  “See? No sweat.” Tony beamed. “Next up, flex-cuffs. Flip you for your choice.”

  “Fine,” Mack sighed out.

  Tony chuckled and produced a coin. “Call it.”

  “Heads.”

  Tony flipped the coin just short of hitting the ceiling, snatched it out of the air, then slapped it onto the back of his left hand. “Tails. I get to use the paracord. Look at it as getting to show off for your lady.” He slipped his hands into a pair of flex-cuffs.

  “Should make you do it from behind your back.” Mack crossed his arms over his chest.

  “I can.” Tony sat in one of the chairs. “But we’ll save that for next time. For this, you want to clench your fists when they tighten the cuffs.”

  Mack did the deed, pulling the plastic tight.

  “That’ll give you more flexibility to make the friction saw.” Tony leaned over to untie one of his combat boots. With his limited range of motion, it took a few minutes to get the paracord lace free from the hooks and eyes and pulled out. “Then, you want to make slipknots on both ends.”

  Mack handed her a length of paracord and kept one for himself. He walked her through the simple steps of making a slipknot. Easy-peasy. At least with two free hands.

  After Tony managed to tie slipknots in both ends, he slipped one over the toe box of his left boot. “Hook one end over, then work the cord through the cuffs.” He pulled the loop through with his teeth. “That’ll make it easier. Hook the second slipknot over the other boot. Pull your hands up and bicycle your legs.”

  It took a few seconds for the plastic to snap, freeing his hands. “It’ll work on rope, too. Either cut through or loosen it enough to slip your hands free.”

  Her head began to swim with invincibility.

  “We’ll wrap up with another way to get out of the
flex-cuffs. If time is a factor, this is way faster.”

  “But more painful.” Mack picked up another pair of thick plastic cuffs. “But pain that gains your freedom is worth it.”

  Tony secured Mack’s wrists until he winced. “You want ’em tight as you can get ’em. Do the same maneuver as with the tape. Show her.”

  Mack took a deep breath. Then a second one as he raised his arms over his head. Her gaze took in every single movement and muscle twitch. His arms moved in a blur of high-speed motion. The cuffs flew to the floor, bouncing a few feet away.

  She’d never wanted—no, needed—to be with a man more. This man. Now. Well, not exactly now.

  Mack rubbed the red marks on his wrists. She took his hands in hers, rubbed her thumb ever so lightly over the welts forming. He stared into her eyes when she raised his hands to touch her lips to one, then the other wrist.

  “I’m out of here for tonight. You two can clean up the supplies.” Tony picked up his pack, swung it over his shoulder, and headed to the door without looking back.

  Mack waited for the door to click shut, then turned his heated gaze to her mouth.

  “Did you, uh, want to go somewhere private to—talk?”

  Talking was not what she had in mind anymore. “Does that door lock?”

  Mack’s rumbling snicker amplified the heat low in her abdomen. “Of course. And Vincenti kinda locked it on his way out.”

  Good. “You sure he won’t say anything?” With all Tony’s innuendo, all she needed was him slipping up.

  “Trust me, if anyone is a master of situational discretion and can keep a secret, it’s Tony Vincenti.”

  Her slight nod was all it took. His mouth was on hers. Hard. Desperate. Possessive. She kissed him back just as hard. Just as desperate. He gripped her hips and held her body tight against his. Her fingers burrowed into the hair at the back of his head, and her other arm wrapped around his torso to get closer.

  The kisses deepened, their tongues delving in to taste and caress. Had it only been days since they’d been together? When his mouth finally left hers, it was for her neck. Totally her weak spot—and he knew it. She ground back against his body, already aching with need.