by D. K. Hood
Lose Your Breath
An absolutely gripping short-read thriller
D.K. Hood
Books by D.K. Hood
Detectives Kane and Alton Series
Don’t Tell A Soul
Bring Me Flowers
Follow Me Home
The Crying Season
Where Angels Fear
Whisper in the Night
Break the Silence
Her Broken Wings
Her Shallow Grave
Promises in the Dark
Be Mine Forever
Cross My Heart
Fallen Angel
Lose Your Breath
AVAILABLE IN AUDIO
Don’t Tell A Soul (Available in the UK and the US)
Bring Me Flowers (Available in the UK and the US)
Follow Me Home (Available in the UK and the US)
The Crying Season (Available in the UK and the US)
Where Angels Fear (Available in the UK and the US)
Whisper in the Night (Available in the UK and the US)
Break the Silence (Available in the UK and the US)
Her Broken Wings (Available in the UK and the US)
Her Shallow Grave (Available in the UK and the US)
Promises in the Dark (Available in the UK and the US)
Be Mine Forever (Available in the UK and the US)
Cross My Heart (Available in the UK and the US)
Contents
Introduction
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Epilogue
Don’t Tell a Soul
Hear more from D.K. Hood
Books by D.K. Hood
A Letter from D.K. Hood
Bring Me Flowers
Follow Me Home
The Crying Season
Where Angels Fear
Whisper in the Night
Break the Silence
Her Broken Wings
Her Shallow Grave
Promises in the Dark
Be Mine Forever
Cross My Heart
Fallen Angel
Acknowledgements
*
This is to all the people who go into battle for us on front lines everywhere. Thank you for your service.
Introduction
Black Rock Falls
Winter edged ever closer and there wasn’t much time for Deputy Dave Kane to complete likely his last secret mission. A former special force’s sniper, he’d worked his way up the ladder to become a protector of POTUS and part of the investigative side of the Secret Service. His life had changed dramatically the day he’d arrived in Black Rock Falls and met Sheriff Jenna Alton. He’d taken the position of deputy sheriff but, as an off-the-grid operative, POTUS could call him into active service at any time. But this wasn’t the reason for his mission. He glanced at Shane Wolfe, and nodded. As the chopper lifted off, Kane adjusted his headset. He trusted the man in the pilot seat with his life and had done so for many years. Now they worked together, in Black Rock Falls, with a different life and future for both of them. Wolfe had been his handler during his years of service and when he’d asked him for this one last favor, he’d made the arrangements without question.
Kane’s stomach clenched as the Potomac River came into view. He hadn’t returned to Washington, DC, since heading out to Black Rock Falls. As the chopper landed on the roof of the local FBI building, he pulled on a baseball cap and climbed from the chopper. Wearing his sunglasses and with Wolfe close behind, he made his way to the basement parking lot and took the assigned vehicle. The slow drive to the cemetery gave Kane time to think back on his life with his beautiful wife, Annie. Circumstances had thrown them together and then torn them apart but he remembered every second…
Chapter One
Six Years Ago
US Embassy, Jerusalem, Israel
Darkness surrounded Annie Parkes as she made her way through the gates of the sandstone building and hustled along the sidewalk. The lighting dropped away to a few scattered lampposts as she hurried through the gates and headed along the narrow sidewalks. Deserted roads wound away in all directions, although as she walked, she noticed a few men congregating in store doorways. She hated this part of the day, walking along a dark road at night to where she’d parked her car. The winter moon cast long shadows that crossed the blacktop in zebra stripes and she quickened her pace. This part of Jerusalem was packed with dark side roads. The tiny place she shared with a friend didn’t come close to the apartment overlooking the Potomac in Washington, DC, but she wouldn’t be at the embassy forever. The job was for six months and she’d made it through the first half.
Hesitating before crossing the road to where she’d parked her old Toyota, she stared at the deepening shadows. Had she imagined the movement and slight scratch of shoes on the loose gravel, the click of metal? Unnerved, she grasped her car keys in one hand and searched the gloom with the light on her phone. She’d left her vehicle under a tree and she could hardly make it out in the dark. Overhead an owl shrieked and her nerves shattered as she ran to her vehicle. Fingers trembling, she pulled open the door and slid behind the wheel. Heart thumping, she locked the door and pushed the keys into the ignition. The instant she looked into the mirror terror gripped her. It was her worst nightmare. A man stared back at her from the back seat and the cold steel muzzle of a gun pressed into her temple. Terrified, she stared at him too frightened to flinch. Their eyes met and a cold chill slid down her spine.
“Drive.” His face was covered but his dark brown eyes menaced her as he dug the gun into tender flesh. “Look at the road not me.” His English was good but heavily accented with the local dialect.
Trying not to scream, Annie gripped the wheel white knuckled. “Where do you want me to go?”
“Drive toward Batei Nitin.” He pressed the gun harder. “I will direct you. Do not make any sudden moves or I will shoot you.”
Survival instinct setting in real fast, Annie swallowed the rising panic. Keep him talking. “Why are you taking me there?”
“Enough with your questions.” He glared at her in the mirror. “Drive or die.”
Chapter Two
Syria
“Target moving into position. Countdown in three minutes.”
The instruction was the last failsafe. Once the countdown began, they’d be no turning back.
“Copy.” Ninety-eight H checked the instruments on his sniper rifle one last time and then relaxed. He looked at his spotter. “Get the hell out of Dodge.”
“I’m gone.” Ninety-eight G packed up his gear and vanished over the rooftops to the evac point.
Taking out a target was personal and he preferred to be
alone. His rifle gave him all the information he needed and being six-five and two hundred and fifty pounds made him stick out like a sore thumb in this neck of the woods. He’d give Jimmy a better chance of escaping alone.
“Countdown in one minute.”
There was no need to reply and he dropped into the zone. He hardly took a breath as his heart slowed and each blink felt like a minute. The dirty bomb-damaged room faded into obscurity. It would be just him and the target. Soon, the voice in his ear would count down the seconds. His eye dropped to the scope. Nothing but the flicker of a curtain at the open window and an empty chair came into view, but each day at this time, the target, selected as a threat to the free world, would sit at his desk and greet his visitors.
“In five, four, three, two, one.”
Ninety-eight H squeezed the trigger, and the second the bullet left the muzzle he stripped down the rifle, packed it up, and headed out into the bright sunshine. He wouldn’t see the aftermath. The target was over a mile away but as he made his way onto the roof of an apartment building, the confirmation came in his ear. He didn’t need it. He never missed.
Gunshots echoed through the narrow streets; they were too damn close for comfort. He peered toward the evacuation point. A vehicle should be waiting to take them to the chopper but a militant force swarmed the area. Someone had betrayed them. He pressed his mic. “We have company.”
“Abort evac. Repeat, abort evac.”
“Copy.” He needed to have Jimmy’s six and pressed his com. “Ninety-eight G, do you copy?”
Nothing.
The group of militants yelled in celebration, shooting their weapons into the air. This meant only one thing. They’d caught Jimmy. He estimated his chances of taking out the twenty or so men as a possibility. No way would he leave Jimmy behind. Looking for a suitable place to set up his rifle, he glanced back over the edge of the building and swallowed in disgust. One of the militants held Jimmy’s head high in triumph. He moved away from the edge and pressed into the shadows. The US would deny all knowledge of Jimmy’s existence. He couldn’t trust anyone and if he wanted to survive, he’d be doing it alone. The planned exit was compromised. He had no choice but to head in the opposite direction. After gauging the distance between his building and the next, he backed up to extend the distance and ran flat out toward the edge of the roof.
Heart in his mouth, he sailed out across the divide, misjudged the landing, and slammed into the side of the building. His fingertips grazed the edge of the roof and he hung suspended by one arm. Muscles burning with overexertion, he edged the other hand over the wall. Beneath his palms the crumbling edge of the damaged building shifted, his feet scrambled to find purchase on the top of a window frame. Bending his knees, he gave one almighty push and rolled over the edge onto a flat rooftop crammed with satellite dishes and air conditioners. Drawing his weapon, he stared around, but the damaged building was empty. The residents long gone, leaving their washing still hanging dusty on makeshift lines on the roof. Bullets rained down, striking the metal dishes and ricocheting in all directions. Shooting in the air was crazy. What goes up must come down.
Grabbing clothes from the washing line, he ran across the roof. The distance to the next building was an easy jump and he made the next six or more without a problem. He slid into the shadows of the next building, dragged the dark kaftan over his clothes and covered his head. Few Syrian men seemed to wear shades in winter but his would cover his blue eyes, and the deep suntan from long months in the desert would carry him through, but not his size. He needed transport and fast.
The door to the building stood ajar, propped open with a bucket. A woman pushed through carrying a basket of laundry. The second she slipped between a line of sheets, he moved with stealth, not making a sound across the roof, and headed down the stone steps into the building. The door to the first apartment was open and the sound of a child singing came from inside. He glanced into the dim hallway. In a dish on a table beside the door sat a set of keys. He snatched them up and headed down the hallway, slipping down the stairs and out into the late afternoon sun. He kept to the shadows, one hand pressing the fob, his gaze moving up and down the row of parked vehicles. Old sedans lined the road. He didn’t recognize the make of any of them and glanced around him. The gunfire had stopped and engine noise rumbled through the streets. He dived behind a wall, pressing hard against the sandstone bricks as a convoy of militia, their black flag flying high on a battered military vehicle, drove past. He waited for the dust to settle and pressed the fob again. A battered silver Audi blinked at him. Wasting no time, he slid inside. The sedan smelled of dirty diapers but he dumped his backpack on the passenger seat and eased out onto the road in the opposite direction the militia had headed. He drove slowly, joining the line of traffic.
The instant the militia left, the town became alive again, people moving around and vehicles heading in all directions. He glanced at his fuel and heaved a sigh of relief. Unless he was stopped, he could go a long way on a full tank. Once on the outskirts of town, he’d need to avoid the military checkpoints, but without a map he’d be toast. The com in his ear and tracker embedded under his skin would give his location via a military satellite. He tapped his com for instructions. “Have you got eyes on me? I need a way out of this hellhole.”
“Copy, Ninety-eight H. We’re going out of range. Stand by.”
Oh, that couldn’t be good. If the plane carrying his command team had to bug out, they’d been picked up on enemy radar. He’d have to make it alone. “Dammit.”
He waited, listening for instructions, but it wasn’t the usual communications officer in his ear, it was his handler, code name Terabyte, who came through the earpiece. The connection was secure, something had happened to prevent his evac. He ground his teeth and waited for the bad news.
“Ninety-eight H, we need you north of Damascus.”
He slammed a fist on the steering wheel. That was him, Ninety-eight H, no longer a person but a code name in an elite yet disposable team, and right now boots on the ground totaled one. His skill alone had kept him alive up until now but his odds of survival had dropped to zero. “Copy. Have you lost your mind? They beheaded Ninety-eight G and I’m next. I want an evac bird ASAP.”
“General Parkes’ daughter, Annie, has been kidnapped by rebel militia from outside the US Embassy in Israel. We know her location and I’m sending you to do an extraction. They’re holding her in an old hotel. It’s five hundred clicks from your current location. If extraction is impossible, you are ordered to terminate. Do you copy?”
“Yeah, I copy but I don’t do mercy killing. I’ll get her out, whatever the cost.” Dragging a hand down his sweat-soaked face, he grit his teeth. “Is my team close by?”
“Negative on that. It’s a no-fly zone, so get the package and make your way to Turkey. We’ll evac from there. You know the deal: We don’t negotiate with terrorists, so time is limited. Head north. I’ll send you the coordinates and guide you around the checkpoints. You’ll only be in communication with me. The line is secure. Move your ass, soldier.”
“You’re planning on sending me in alone to drag a young woman halfway across a hostile country without papers or money?” Ninety-eight H shook his head. “I’m a sniper. I kill people. I don’t rescue privileged jackasses.”
“You do now. Suck it up.”
Chapter Three
A cold wind blew through the boards covering the window, sending goosebumps over Annie’s flesh. Inside the dim room, only thin shafts of sunlight illuminated the filthy floor surrounding the single chair the two bad-smelling men had tied her to. So thirsty that her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth and with her head thumping in time to the beating of her heart, she stared around the room. Where the hell was she? The last thing she remembered was passing a sign to Hadassah-Helicopters Airfield. She’d driven to the gate and everything after that was blank. The embassy would know by now she’d gone missing. She’d called her roommate on leaving the embassy
, same as she did every night, as a safety precaution, and by now her dad would know too. She tested the zip ties on her wrists for the hundredth time. They’d been tightened to cut deep into her flesh. Her hands had throbbed at first but had lost all feeling in the last couple of hours.
Shoulders burning from her arms being bound behind her at the elbows, she tried to hunch and relax to keep the blood flowing. She wiggled her toes. Had she been left to die? Maybe not. She could hear footsteps in the room above and she’d called out numerous times. The men she’d seen had been dressed in black but had remained silent, and yet as they’d left her, she’d heard a few words in Arabic. Terrified militant extremists had abducted her, she followed the instructions. She’d read about the chances of that happening and what to do percolated into her mind. Remaining calm and not giving them anything but her name seemed redundant as not a soul had spoken to her since the instruction to drive, all those hours ago. The usual people they grabbed in an attempt to arrange a prisoner exchange were of value to the USA, so why take her? A secretary working in the US Embassy wasn’t much of a bargaining chip and she should have been safe in Israel.