Dire Distraction

by Dee Davis

  “We can discuss the finer points of that argument later.” She shrugged. “But right now, I suggest we concentrate on our friends out there. Could be Wai Yan, could be from another cartel, but either way I’d say the odds are pretty strong that they’re not on our side. The only question remaining—are their intentions malignant or benign?”

  “Judging from the gun mounted on the front of the boat,” Avery said, looking through the field glasses again, “I’d say the former. Any chance we can outrun them?”

  “Not unless you know something about this crate that I don’t. She’s damn near indestructible, but she was never meant to move quickly. I can try to outmaneuver them, but there’s no way I can beat them in a full-out sprint.”

  “All right then, we gear up for the possibility of a battle.”

  She glanced back at the boat behind them, steadily closing the distance. “With a twelve-inch on the bow, I’d say we’re a little outgunned.”

  “I’ve been in worse situations.” Avery’s smile was contagious. “What else have you got on board in the way of munitions?”

  “Nothing that’s going to compete with that.” She nodded toward the speedboat. “Just the guns I mentioned and a stick or two of leftover dynamite. I transported some of the stuff downriver last month, near the Thai border, for an outfit building a casino on the Myanmar side. It’s over there.” She nodded to the port side of the wheelhouse.

  “Could have potential,” he said, frowning as he clearly turned over the possibilities. “So, the way I see it, we’ve got two options. We can try to take them out. If I had the chance, I could try to shoot at their fuel tank.”

  “You’d have to be a hell of shot,” she said. “Even in perfect weather. But in this?” She nodded at the torrential downpour.

  “It’s not an impossible notion,” Avery mused. “Although it would mean we’d have to pull well within range.”

  “Which doesn’t seem like the best idea considering they’ve got the big gun. And I’m assuming we’ve got the same problem with the dynamite.”

  “Yeah, I’m afraid we’d be sitting ducks. Which might be worth it, if it was a sure thing. But as you pointed out, there are other mitigating factors that stand in the way of certain success.”

  “So you said there were two options. What’s the second choice?”

  “We make ourselves a nonissue.”

  “So what? You think we should surrender?” She narrowed her eyes and straightened into every inch of her five-foot-three frame. “The last thing we need to do is give them more of an upper hand than they already have.”

  “I wasn’t suggesting that at all.” He held up a hand in apology. “It would be too dangerous. Even with our covers, there’s always the chance they’ll figure out who we really are. Or worse, they could already know. It’s possible Shrum found out I’m coming and isn’t all that keen on a reunion.”

  “Or maybe it’s someone who has an ax to grind with me,” Syd said, thinking of the man she’d hit in the jungle. “This isn’t exactly a world where people play nice. And I’ve made my share of enemies.”

  “So we’re agreed—either way we can’t take the risk.”

  “Okay, so then if we’re not going to try and fight, and we’re not going to surrender, what do you propose?”

  “You’re not going to like it.”

  “If it means we get out of this alive, then believe me, I’m all for it,” she said, pushing the throttle to maximum power, the engine coughing and sputtering in response, the speedboat only seconds behind them now. “And I’d say sooner’s better than later.”

  “All right. So if we can’t blow up their boat, I think we should blow up ours.”

  “Are you out of your mind?” The words came out of their own accord, and for a minute, she forgot who it was she was talking to.

  For a moment, his jaw tightened, and she had a glimpse of the steel that he kept hidden behind his quiet façade. This was not a man to be trifled with. Still, it was her damned boat and her damned life, and she wasn’t going to give in to some half-baked idea just because the idea came from Avery-fucking-Solomon.

  She squared off, anger making her reckless. But before she could say anything, his expression softened, his mouth breaking into a disarming smile. A fire sparked inside, somewhere just south of her belly, and she was surprised at the intensity. Damn the man. “If you think—” she started, but he cut her off with a finger to her lips, and she struggled to breathe, her senses threatening full-out revolt. What the hell?

  “Hang on. Give me a chance to explain,” he said, shooting a look at the boat, which was now clearly visible behind them, even in the dark gloom of the rain. “I think it’s our best chance.” He waited, his dark-eyed gaze moving back to hers, his finger still pressed against her lips.

  She nodded, and he stepped back.

  “I know you love this boat,” he began, “but destroying it is our best chance out of this mess. If they think they’ve hit us, and that we were taken out with the boat, then our problems are solved. So all I’ve got to do is rig the dynamite to blow the engine and we should be set.”

  “And how do you propose we avoid being actually blown to bits?”

  “Easy. I’ll rig it on delay, and we’ll slip into the water before it blows. With any luck at all, they’ll think we’re dead, and their problem is solved.”

  “And we do what? Swim to shore and steal another boat?”

  “Seems like a fair plan. You said your friend has a place up the river a bit. Does he have a boat?”

  She nodded, turning the idea over in her head. She hated the idea of losing her boat. In a weird way, it had become her home. But at the end of the day, it was just a vessel. And Avery was right, it might be their only option. As if to echo the thought, the speedboat behind them opened fire, a hail of bullets strafing the aft floor and railing.

  “If we’re going to make this work, we’ve got to move fast.” He could have pulled rank. Ordered her to obey. But instead, he was asking, even as gunfire echoed around them.

  “What do you want me to do?” she asked.

  “Rig the throttle so that it’ll keep moving forward. And then put everything that might be of value in my bag. It’s waterproof. So it’ll protect even the weapons. Then, as soon as you’ve got that done, head over to the starboard gate and slip into the water. I’ll be right behind you.”

  The boat fired again, the bullets closer this time, one whizzing just past her ear. “Go,” she said, already turning to grab a cable with a d-ring to tie open the throttle.

  He nodded, reaching down to grab the dynamite and a clip of ammo. “With any luck, I can rig the gunpowder as a fuse.” She had to admit there was a certain genius to the plan. With another quick nod, he sprinted toward the back of the boat and the engine box, keeping low to avoid the gunfire.

  With the throttle open and the boat moving forward on its own, Syd grabbed the weapons and the ammo and stuffed them into Avery’s neoprene bag. She added some rations and a couple bottles of water, then slung it over her shoulder, grabbing her own go-bag as she moved toward the starboard side of the boat. Bullets were hailing all around her now, and she used the boat’s benches and canopy to shield her.

  Despite her growing concern, she resisted the urge to check on Avery. He could handle himself. What he needed now was for her to do her part. With a last spurt she darted across the open space between the passenger bench and the wooden gate that opened from the side of the boat to allow for disembarking.

  Her fingers trembled in the cold rain as she fumbled to open it, but finally, the sodden wood yielded to her pressure and swung back, the rain-swollen river rushing by just below her feet. Peering through the quickly deepening shadows, she could just make out the river bank. The trick would be to fight across the current to the calmer water just beyond the boat.

  The hull next to the opening splintered as another hail of bullets slammed into the boat. She glanced back to try to find Avery, but the rain obscured he
r vision, and so she turned back to the water. It was now or never. And as another volley of bullets sprayed across the deck behind her, she looped the bags around her shoulders and slid into the water, praying that Avery would be following behind her.

  The current was stronger than she’d expected, the water pulling her downward. She sputtered, fighting her way back to the surface. And then, kicking hard, she began to swim toward the shore, the rush of the water drowning out the sound of the gunfire behind her.

  Then suddenly the night sky lit up like a Christmas tree, sparks shooting high into the air as a plume of flame and smoke billowed upward. She could actually feel the heat from the explosion washing across the surface of the water.

  Safe in the slower current, out of the sightline of the speedboat, she frantically scanned the surface of the river, looking for Avery. Heart pounding, she treaded water, the empty river making a mockery of her search. If anything happened to him, there would be hell to pay.

  And yet, even as she had the thought, she knew her worry stemmed from something more. She might not believe in heroes, but if there were such a thing, she was pretty damn certain that Avery Solomon would make the cut. And the idea that he might not have made it was more than she wanted to contemplate.

  She pushed a clump of wet hair out of her face, watching as the speedboat slowly circled what was left of her boat. As it passed the bow, it seemed to hesitate for a moment, and then she heard the engines kick into high gear as the little boat sped off into the night, leaving behind the quiet of the river and the eerie glow of burning wreckage.

  Avery’s plan had worked.

  Now if only she could find him.

  Beside her something surfaced in a spray of water, the big man appearing like freaking Poseidon. Hell, he even had the trident—if a rifle counted.

  “Where the hell have you been?” she asked, embarrassed by the rough emotion in her voice. But she’d already lost one friend and she didn’t think she could stand losing another.

  “Watching the show. I wanted to be sure they bought into the fiction. If not…” He trailed off, lifting the rifle.

  “Well, I’m glad you’re all right,” she said, working to make her voice sound more impassive. “I’d have hated to have to explain losing you to Langley.”

  “There’d have definitely been some paperwork,” he said, laughter coloring his voice. And even though she couldn’t see his eyes, she could feel the warmth of his gaze. “But it’s all good. The ruse worked. And the hostiles have most definitely bugged out.”

  “And if they did know who we are, then I’m guessing word of our demise is going to spread pretty damn quickly. Power is the name of the game out here. And he who destroys the enemy curries respect.” She shivered, still watching the burning remnants of her vessel.

  Avery reached out to take the bags, still strapped around her body. She rolled her shoulders in relief, her muscles beginning to shake as the rush of adrenaline and relief faded.

  “We need to get you out of the river,” Avery said. “Somewhere dry. Will you be able to find your friend’s place on foot?”

  “Shouldn’t be a problem,” she said, her teeth chattering with the effort. Damn it. The last thing she needed was to fall apart now. The battle had been won. And she hadn’t even done the hard part.

  “All right then, I’ll follow your lead.”

  Syd took a last look at the remnants of her boat, then sucked in a deep breath and set out for the shore, the little voice in her head chiding that Avery Solomon wasn’t the kind of man to follow anyone. Ever.

  Chapter 5

  Sydney’s friend’s shack was more of a lean-to than anything else. A wooden frame dug back into the side of a hill, with thatching for walls and a rough-hewn platform serving as a floor. Palm trees arched overhead, the patter of the rain on their leaves adding a tympanic score to the otherwise still night.

  A battered pot-bellied stove stood in the far corner, and somehow, Sydney had managed to coax the water-laden wood stacked on the porch into catching fire. Although the night wasn’t particularly chilly, the heat felt good nevertheless, their dunk in the river leaving them both wet and uncomfortable.

  Two lanterns hung from the rafters, providing flickering light, and a third sat on the table near the stove. Sydney had rigged a clothesline of sorts using an old piece of rope strung between the stove’s exhaust pipe and the window frame, their dripping clothes framing the window like some kind of bedraggled curtains.

  Avery wore a pair of dry cotton pants from his go-bag. And Sydney wore his T-shirt, the damn thing practically swallowing her, hanging well below her knees—yet somehow, the effect was all the more alluring.

  He knew he shouldn’t be thinking like that. Hell, he shouldn’t even be looking, but the truth was that she was a beautiful woman, and he’d have had to be dead not to notice the fact. And besides, he’d always had a thing for strong women. And Sydney Price was definitely that.

  He rubbed a finger across the smooth gold of Evangeline’s wedding band. The cool metal reminding him of why he was here. And why he couldn’t let his mind go down that particular path. He wasn’t free to think like that. Hell, for all he knew, he’d been living a lie for the past fourteen years. It was just so damn hard to get his head around it all. If Evangeline was actually alive…he tightened his fingers, slamming his fist against the rickety table.

  “You okay?” Sydney asked, turning around, her green eyes filled with concern.

  “Yeah, sorry. Just thinking about your boat. I’m sorry I had to destroy it.”

  Sydney shrugged as she set a plate of food in front of him. “You said it yourself. It was our best option.” She smiled, the gesture not quite reaching her eyes as she put a second plate on the table and sat down across from him.

  “This looks good,” Avery said, focusing on the food, feeling somehow as if he’d left his feelings bare for her to see. And the idea didn’t sit all that comfortably.

  “Well, I didn’t have much to work with.” She handed him a bottle of water. “Some mangoes, some beans, and some rice. It’s not exactly haute cuisine. More like local comfort food.”

  “From where I’m sitting,” he said around a forkful of food, “it doesn’t get any better. In fact, it’s exactly what we needed after our little river adventure.”

  “You think they really bought into the show?” Her gaze darted to the window and then back to the table again, her expression still showing concern.

  “Yeah. If they hadn’t believed we were dead, they’d have stayed to search the river. Although it won’t hurt to keep watch tonight. Just to be sure.”

  “At least we’re on the Laos side. It should be safer over here.” She shrugged as she dug into her plate of rice and beans.

  “For what it’s worth,” Avery said, the strength of his regret surprising him, “I really am sorry I got you into this.”

  “Part of the job. And hopefully, in the end, it’ll all be worth it.” She tilted her head, studying him, waiting.

  His first instinct was to duck the unasked question. But then he thought about her boat and the explosion, and just how easily she’d taken it all in stride. He figured he owed her an answer. A real one.

  He reached for the water bottle, taking a long swallow, and then set it back on the table. “A few months back, we were sent on a mission to Afghanistan.”

  She nodded without comment, sitting back, arms crossed. He liked the fact that she didn’t pepper him with questions, giving him time to tell the story in his own way.

  “There was intel that suggested a village in the mountains was really a terrorist encampment. We executed a raid, but they’d evidently gotten word we were coming. Except for a lone sniper, the place was deserted. We scoured their headquarters and managed to come up with some pretty damning intelligence. Enough to help us thwart an attack on Manhattan.”

  “You’re talking about the bombings in the city. And the assassination attempt.” They were statements, not questions. Sydney ha
d apparently done her homework.

  “Yes. Anyway, in addition to the other stuff we found, there was also a hard drive. Partially destroyed. Virtually unreadable. But my tech guru, Harrison Blake, is the kind that won’t give up on a puzzle, and so he kept at it. And finally, last week, he managed to pull something off the damn thing.”

  “Something that led you here—to find Shrum.” Again, she was giving him an out. A way to keep his own council, and again he realized that in doing so, she’d actually convinced him she deserved the whole truth.

  “Harrison found a picture of my wife.”

  Sydney’s gaze shot to his empty ring finger and then to the gold band on his little finger, her eyebrows moving together in confusion.

  “My wife died fourteen years ago,” he said, cutting to the chase. “Or at least that’s what I believed. Until I saw the picture.” He paused to take another sip of water, ordering his thoughts, then reached down to the bag at his feet, producing a copy of the image. “This is what he found.”

  Sydney picked up the photograph, tilting it so that she could see it better in the lantern light. “That’s Shrum.” She frowned down at the picture, her eyes moving across it. “And I take it that’s your wife?”

  Avery nodded. “Evangeline.”

  “And you think this is real? I mean, these days it’s pretty damn easy to fake this sort of thing.”

  “Agreed. But Harrison hasn’t been able to prove that it was manipulated. So at least some part of me has accepted that it’s real. It’s just that…”

  “She doesn’t look like a captive,” Sydney said, finishing his thought. “And if she’s not being held against her will, then…” It was her turn to leave the sentence unfinished. “God, I don’t know what I’d do if I were in your shoes.”

  “You’d come out here and try to find the truth.”

  “Yeah, I guess I would.” She was still studying the photo. “Does she look older?”