Dangerous Assignment (Aegis Group Book 4)

by Sidney Bristol

  Luke lowered himself to the ground and stared at the debris.

  Who was he kidding? There was no hiding what he’d been doing…

  Abigail kept her gaze lowered and focused on noting the exits, the windows, all the ways she could escape. The main building was built out of stone that would survive the harsh desert climate. The interior was utilitarian—tiled and simple.

  The guards led her through the entry and into a large room that boasted a desk, a seating area, and several fans moving the warm air around.

  Zacharias wasn’t here. A single glance told her that. He might be elsewhere, but he wasn’t here. There were at least a dozen armed men around, plus Nador. He stuck out by the simple fact that he wasn’t covered in dust.

  Based on what she’d read, she’d almost expected to be delivered to his bedroom, along with a couple other women. By all accounts, when Nador was not busy killing, he was fucking. She hated him on principle.

  “My men say you have an offer for me?” Nador circled his desk, his arms folded across his chest. He wore tan slacks and a button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up around his mammoth biceps.

  “You have a man named Luke in your possession. I want to make a deal.” She stared back at him, feeling a lot like Daniel facing down Goliath. She had a lot more than a few rocks in her pocket, though.

  “A deal?” Nador’s bark of laughter was sharp, like the crack of a whip.

  “Yes, a deal.”

  “You must be Yael.” Nador leaned against the desk.

  She almost shivered at the sound of that name on his lips.

  “I am. You must know what I am, too.” She relaxed her hands. These men didn’t frighten her, but Zach did. There was a difference between these men and Zach. Nador, and those like him were bloodthirsty. Simple. The men who followed them were of two kinds—like-minded monsters or victims of circumstance.

  Zach was a different creature.

  “What you are is a pain in my ass. Why shouldn’t I kill you now? Or give you to my men? They could do you over that sofa right now.” Nador nodded at the couch to her right.

  “I’m a special unit Mossad agent. I’ve been a spy for over half my life. I’m more valuable to you in the field than on my back. I’ll offer you this trade once—my services for Luke Briar.” She’d honor the arrangement for as long as it suited her.

  Nador tipped his head back and laughed, the sound booming off the walls.

  “That is rich,” he said.

  “I’ll only offer this once.”

  “Take her away. No one touches her for now.” Nador crossed to her and ran his knuckles over her cheek. “Not until I’ve decided what I’ll do with her.”

  Translation—until he figured out who she was and what she was worth.

  “The deal expires the moment I leave this room.” She managed not to suck in a breath when one of the men set her pack on Nador’s desk.

  “I changed my mind.” He dropped his hand and stepped back. She didn’t like the glint in his eye. “Follow me.”

  The guard at her back shoved her forward.

  She tried to not appear overeager to leave the room.

  “There is no deal,” she said as they crossed into another part of the building. Wood paneling adorned the walls and floor.

  “I’m not interested in your fucking deal,” Nador sneered over his shoulder.

  They were—what? Twenty-five, thirty feet away?

  The skin between her shoulder blades itched.

  “Put her in the bedroom.” Nador pushed the doors open to what had to be his personal residence.

  A loud boom shook the walls. Plaster cracked overhead, raining down dust. The men hunched, covering their heads.

  “What the hell?” Nador whirled, pinning her with his gaze. He bellowed, “What did you do?”

  She pulled her hand from her pocket, the grenade and pin hitting in a one-two beat.

  Abigail flung herself to the side, through a door and covered her head. The seconds ticked by—Boom!

  The door hit the ground next to her, blown off its hinges. Men screamed.

  What was that? Four hundred and thirty seconds?

  She’d lost count.

  Boom! Boom!

  A third and fourth explosion, bigger thanks to the gasoline, shook the building again. Her ears rang and dust covered her.

  Abigail pushed to her feet, drawing the knife the patrol guards hadn’t taken from her. She shook her head and squinted through the dust, listening for movement.

  Her window of opportunity was small.

  She edged around the corner and peered into the demolished room. Furniture was turned over, and chunks were missing out of the ceiling. The windows were blown out.

  But there were no bodies.

  Nador and the guard were gone.

  She crossed to the entry—and walked straight into Nador.

  He grabbed her by the shoulders and hurled her up against the wall. His strength was breathtaking. Literally. She couldn’t pull oxygen into her lungs.

  Abigail was done for in an all-out fight against a man his size.

  She slashed with the knife and ducked away. The guard who’d been at her back sat slumped against the wall—unmoving. His gun was so close. But Nador was between the firearm and her.

  Nador whirled, as though he’d been following her gaze, and grabbed the gun. He turned, finger on the trigger.

  Pop. Pop. Pop.

  Bullets pelted the wall.

  She dove and ducked, but not fast enough.

  Fire ripped through her arm.

  She knew that sensation. It wasn’t the first time she’d been shot.

  Abigail hit the ground and rolled. The bullets kept coming.

  Click. Click. Click, click, click.

  No more bullets.

  She pushed to her feet, shoving the pain aside.

  Nador threw the rifle aside and crossed the room in two strides. Footsteps pounded the ground behind them.

  He reached for her.

  She slashed, knocking his hands aside.

  This wasn’t how this was supposed to go.

  It was going wrong, not that there’d been much of a right way to go.

  Nador’s hands closed around her throat. She shoved the knife into his shoulder, but he never flinched. The last thing she saw was the maniacal gleam in his eye before everything went dark.

  Zacharias flinched and peered over his shoulder at the ever-shrinking hilltop compound. Two clouds of smoke rose into the air, backlit by the setting sun.

  That was close.

  Too close.

  If he had any luck left whatsoever, Nador would handle Yael. Stop her in her tracks. Kill her. The way things had gone, all the mercenary was doing would only slow her down. Unlike Nador, Yael knew what she was up against and probably had a way out already arranged.

  He needed a plan.

  “Where do you want to go?” The young driver didn’t glance at him or even acknowledge the bomb blasts. Zacharias had picked well. This one had telegraphed greed. He’d probably even killed some of his fellow mercenaries to get ahead when it suited him.

  “An airport.”

  The young man eased the lorry to a stop.

  Ah, Zacharias had wondered when they’d get to this part. Well, he’d play his role for now, no reason to make a mess of things yet.

  “About that payment?” They stared at each other.

  “Yes?” Zacharias held his empty hands up and swallowed for good measure.

  “I want double.”

  “I don’t have double!”

  “Then I kill you now.”

  “Kill me now and you get nothing. I can do better than money. An enterprising young man like yourself needs a new opportunity. A job. I can introduce you to the right people.” Zacharias cringed at the right places, pitched his voice higher, going through the motions.

  “I want my payment. And more. You have more.”

  “You’ll get your payment. And a bonus! How’s that
sound?”

  Yeah right, the kid would be dead before they ever reached a town.

  If he’d learned anything from dealing with Yael it was to never leave a body behind.

  19.

  Luke paced his cell. Waiting. Listening.

  Three bombs and at least one other altercation.

  The yard was abuzz with activity. People yelling, trying to put out the blaze that had taken over the main building. The acrid smoke was drifting into this wing already.

  Where was Abigail?

  Did he try to escape? Go in search of her? Or did he stay put?

  She likely had a plan. The guys would be somewhere out there waiting for a signal. Was that what the bombs were? A signal? Then where were the guys?

  The worst thing a kidnapped client could do was attempt to rescue themselves. It royally fucked up whatever plans their team made to extract the clients. He knew he needed to stay put, to play his role, but damn it. It felt wrong. Something was off. The guys should have been there already. Shouldn’t they?

  Voices echoed down the hall, louder. A door banged open.

  Luke leaned against the bars, holding onto them as though they were all that was keeping him upright.

  A few moments later, the door at the end of the hall swung open.

  Two men entered, dragging a third between them.

  Abigail.

  Luke’s body went hot and then cold. His heart beat in his throat. He wanted to rip their throats out. Crush their skulls.

  They carried her into the first cell, their voices echoing down the hall. The door didn’t clang behind them. There was something to the note in their voices, the way they spoke, that made his skin crawl.

  If the Aegis guys were coming, they’d have been there already.

  He and Abigail were on their own.

  Fuck.

  Luke stepped onto the bench and hoisted himself up as far as he could. He got one foot through the opening between the cells, then the other. He used the leverage to walk his upper body toward the wall, hand over hand, until he could slide through the hole and grasp the bar on the other side.

  There was no bench, but he didn’t give two fucks about being silent now.

  That was the sound of cloth—clothing—ripping.

  He was going to kill these sons of bitches.

  He checked the hall, but it was empty.

  Smoke hung low in the air, thickening with every passing second. If he had to guess, the whole place was going to go up in flames. The only reason it hadn’t progressed this far was probably due to the structure being mostly cinderblock, but the roof? That would go up in seconds.

  Luke strode down the hall, keeping to the balls of his feet. Whatever pain he felt was pushed to the back of his mind, dulled by adrenaline and rage.

  He stepped into the doorway of the first cell.

  One of the guards held a nearly-passed-out Abigail by the shoulders. The other had his hands wrapped in the long strips of her outer garment. Abigail’s eyes were open, but unfocused, her head lolled to one side.

  Luke didn’t pause. He couldn’t afford to.

  He grabbed the first man by the back of his shirt and knocked the man’s feet out from under him with a strong kick. Luke landed a punch to the side of the man’s head, putting all his rage into the blow.

  The man holding Abigail shoved her to the ground and reached for his weapon. Abigail stumbled back against the wall and slumped to her knees. Even when Barron had done his worst, she hadn’t been this disoriented.

  Luke drew the first man’s gun and shot, aiming high. The bullet tore through the man’s shoulder, sending him backward, arms wind-milling. The arterial spray of blood was a good indicator the fucker wasn’t going to get back up.

  The first man scrambled to his feet yelling something—only to be cut off in a gurgle of blood. A knife stuck out the side of his throat.

  Abigail staggered forward as the yeller fell to the ground, wrapping her hand around the blade and pulling it free with a slurp of wet flesh.

  “Abigail?” He clenched his hands. He was too pissed off, too angry to be gentle.

  “I’m fine. You look like shit.” She wiped the blade off and shook her head again.

  “You’re bleeding.”

  “I am.” She glanced down at her arm. The caftan was soaked with crimson and streaked with dirt. She shoved the knife into her boot and knotted the long strips of fabric around her waist. “The building’s going to burn. We need to get out of here.”

  Her speech wasn’t right. It was slurred, breathy. Was it his imagination or could he hear the wheeze in her breathing again?

  “You’re hurt. What about the guys? Where are they?”

  “Not coming. I’m fine.” She sat down on the bench, hands braced on her knees. “We need to go.”

  She wouldn’t say it, but she wasn’t fine.

  Luke quickly stripped the two bodies of what weapons they had. A rifle, two handguns, bullets and a knife. Not much, but more than they had.

  “Did you see Zach? Is he here?”

  “I saw him earlier. I think things with Nador and him went south pretty fast.”

  “We need to get out of here. The air…” Her breaths were definitely wheezing now.

  The smoke was bad, but not that bad.

  Something was wrong with her lungs, or maybe her throat. He hadn’t missed the angry red marks; he just hadn’t wanted to acknowledge them.

  “Give me your arm. Can you walk?”

  “Yes.”

  He looped her good arm over his shoulders and together they hunched over, keeping low. The prison wing was empty, save for them. The only entrance was into the main building.

  They stepped from the cinderblock structure into the adjoining section and were met with the crackling sound of flames.

  “We have to find Zach. Where did you last see him?”

  “In some sort of interrogation room.”

  “Where was it?”

  “I’m getting you out of here.”

  Abigail balked, but he was stronger, and she wasn’t in any shape to fight him. He dragged her along at his side, half picking her up.

  “Luke, we have to find him.”

  “You can’t find him if you die.”

  “I’m not leaving!”

  Luke paused to get his bearings. He hadn’t yet seen anything besides a tiny window no human could squeeze through. The way ahead was full of thick, dark smoke. If Nador’s people were trying to salvage things at all—they’d be up there. Right where Luke and Abigail needed to pass through.

  “If he’s here—we don’t know that, so come on.” Luke hauled Abigail forward.

  The first cough shook her, rattling in her chest. She groaned, a pained sound.

  That couldn’t be good.

  Ahead, the first tongues of flame licked the walls, racing up to the ceiling.

  They hunched lower. His eyes stung. He could hear yelling.

  Luke had to get Abigail out of here. Maybe he could boost her through one of the smaller windows. All that mattered was getting her free. On his own he could fight his way out.

  He rounded a corner into a wall of heat. They backpedaled, gasping for breath. Luke peered around the corner, squinting to get a better picture of what they were up against. A good portion of the floor above them had collapsed into the hall. Flames danced among the rubble, eating up whatever it could find.

  “In here.” Abigail pulled him into a room with an open window. Someone Upstairs was looking out for them.

  The window let out into the courtyard where men tossed buckets of water on the remains of a truck. No one was even trying to contain the fire ripping through the building.

  Most of the people were piling into trucks and Jeeps with bags on their backs.

  It was chaos.

  Rats deserting a sinking ship.

  Nador was a man who inspired loyalty by a show of strength. Abigail had just decimated his hold on the men.

  Luke scooped Abigail up a
nd set her on the windowsill. She swung her legs over the edge and slid out on her own power. He climbed through after her, watching the people focused on the blaze and their own escape.

  “What the hell did you do, Abigail?” He curled his arm around her, his other hand wrapped around the rifle.

  “I made a distraction.”

  “For future reference, never surprise me.”

  “Deal.”

  Luke hustled them away from the action and the flames, toward men loading trucks up with belongings and getting the heck out of here.

  “Where was Zach the last time you saw him?” Abigail leaned on him for support. Her strength was failing her and she knew it. That, more than the fire, terrified him.

  “Don’t worry about that now.” He picked her up and put her in an empty Jeep. Several bags filled the back seat. He pushed one of the handguns into her lap. “Here. Shoot anything that isn’t me.”

  “I can’t leave, yet.” She was a dog with a damn bone. Her life was more important than stopping one man.

  A man yelled.

  “Luke!” Abigail lurched forward, her hand rising.

  He clapped his hands over his ears the second before the gun went off. Despite covering his ears, the blast still had his ears ringing.

  “In the Jeep!” she yelled.

  Luke vaulted over the hood of the vehicle, sparing a glance over his shoulder.

  Nador stood silhouetted against the flames, pointing at them and yelling something over his shoulder.

  Luke climbed into the passenger seat. Abigail already had the engine cranked. He shifted into gear and the Jeep shot backward, out from between the buildings and into the courtyard circus.

  “Go,” Abigail snapped. She had her window rolled down and an arm propped up against the Jeep.

  He stomped on the accelerator.

  They shot forward.

  A big, military-style truck lumbered out in front of him.

  He jammed on the breaks, twisting the wheel hard, sending them back toward the main building.

  Nador stood in the middle of the road, a gun in hand.

  Luke swerved, aimed, and fired.

  Nador jerked backward.

  “You got him in the shoulder.” Abigail twisted to look as they shot past him, her lips parted, struggling for breath.

  “I got him.” And right now, all that mattered was that he was getting Abigail out of this hell hole.