by Misty Evans
Outside, the storm had officially gone into blizzard territory. With any luck, if the man in the woods was still alive, he wouldn’t be for long in the freezing temperatures.
As Miles started skating down the lane toward the Land Rover, he heard the roar of what sounded like a bear echoing down from the hillside. On the heels of that came a man’s strangled scream.
The scream ended abruptly and Miles paused for a second to look back. The forest was coated in snow, the trees standing like sentries staring down at him.
Miles turned away and continued his journey down the lane, fighting to breathe in the heavy, blinding snow.
It seemed like an eternity before he reached the fallen tree, a good, thick blanket of snow now covering the ice. He hefted himself over the massive trunk, the Land Rover still sitting in the same spot where he’d hidden it. The tire tracks from the other vehicle had all but disappeared under the new carpet of snow.
Nearly giddy with relief, he hoisted himself into the Land Rover. Tossing the backpacks into the passenger seat, he noticed a big duffel bag stuffed in the foot well.
Dragging it up to the seat, he pawed through it. Extra clothes, a couple of guns, a satellite phone.
“We are in business, kids,” he said to the quiet interior. “Let’s rock and roll.”
He got the motor running and drove as fast as he could considering he didn’t want to slide off the mountainside in the storm. The wheels on the Land Rover were heavy duty and ate up the snow covered lane without many issues.
Once he’d made the bottom of the mountain, he pulled out his cell. No service. Not that he’d expected any, but a man could hope.
Now what? He needed help and in a big way.
The sat phone.
Stopping for a moment, he jerked the thing out of the duffel bag and found the cord to hook it into the lighter. A minute later, he had Jax on the line.
“You lost her?” Jax said after Miles told him an abbreviated version of what had happened.
“I didn’t lose her. The jackwagon snuck up on me and knocked me out.”
“Jesus, man. Is she still wearing her Rock Star bracelet?”
“Yeah, I think so.” The bracelet had a GPS tracking device in it. “Can you trace it?”
“I’m on it.”
Jaxon called him back on the sat phone three minutes later. Which was good since Miles couldn’t sit still and had come to the end of the mountain lane. He needed to know whether to go left or right.
“Southeast,” Jaxon said. “She’s headed for Bucharest.”
Bourean’s mansion. “How soon can you meet me there?”
“Actually, we’re already here. In Bucharest, I mean.”
“We?”
“I’ve got a team, sort of. They just flew in from the States and we’re at the airport. Apparently Beatrice thought we might need backup.”
Beatrice was always right. God Jr. ate logic for breakfast, but she had a keen sense of intuition as well. He owed her big when he got back.
If he got back.
He was probably a hundred miles from Bucharest. Maybe he’d overtake whoever had Charlotte before they got to Bourean’s. If not… “We’re going to need blueprints for Bourean’s compound and a plan to get Charlotte out without staring World War III.”
“On it.”
The line went dead.
Chapter Eighteen
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CHARLOTTE CAME AWAKE slowly, her senses coming online one at a time. First she heard a loud whirring, like a giant bee buzzing under her. Next she smelled tires and damp carpeting. Mud, too. Her eyelids were heavy, but she forced them open, only to find herself in darkness.
She was lying on her stomach, her cheek resting on the damp carpeting. Her side ached, as did her head. Everything in her body felt sluggish, as if sludge was in her veins. Her tongue felt thick, her mouth dry.
I’ve been drugged.
She tried to reboot her brain along with her senses, but the neurons that were successfully firing were slow to come online and wake their counterparts.
For a few minutes, she just laid there and forced herself to breathe steadily and evenly. Her body bounced around and jarred a couple of times. She tried to bring her hands to her face, but found them handcuffed behind her back. That woke up more brain cells, a steady flood of memories coming to her.
The cabin. Norris.
Orlo.
Miles.
Lifting her head, she took a deep breath and looked around. The droning bee was a truck of some kind—a Jeep—and she had been tossed into the back. The second row seats had been put down to hold cargo—her. The windows in the back were blacked out, but up front, she could see CB driving, his knit cap still on. Driving snow rammed the windshield, the wipers working furiously.
How far were they from the cabin? She had to figure out a way to stop Norris and get back there.
Was Miles even still alive? Her stomach roiled at the thought of him dead in the woods, wild animals shredding his body.
Dammit, she knew something like this could happen.
Well, not this specifically. She’d never dreamed her mentor would turn on her and deliver her into the hands of a monster.
But then, her own flesh and blood father had put her in a mental institute to shut her up. Why was it such a far cry for her handler to betray her?
Stupid. I’ve been so stupid.
No wonder MI6 believed she was a traitor. CB Norris had made that happen, covering his own traitorous activities.
At the cabin, she’d fought Orlo with all her might, trying to save Miles. After she’d landed a solid kick to Orlo’s shin, the assassin had hit her in the head with the butt of his gun. She’d gone down like a pile of bricks. Two hits to her head in one night was probably the reason her brain was having trouble rebooting. The drugs in her system, courtesy of CB no doubt, were making her body sluggish and out of sync with her head.
How long had she been out? How far down the road to Nico’s were they?
And how in the hell was she going to get rid of Norris and turn this Jeep around?
He was so focused on driving in the crappy weather, he wasn’t paying attention to her. The front seat was a bench, so the high back made a divider between them and gave her some cover.
Keeping an eye on him in the rearview, Charlotte slowly shifted to her side, working her zip-tied hands down and around her butt and legs. Her boots were an impediment, but she loosened her shoulders as much as she could. Stretching her arms for all she was worth in a fetal position, her arms finally had enough length to get her hands under her feet. She let out a silent breath and brought them forward.
Norris glanced up into the rearview, and Charlotte froze, closing her eyes. He didn’t seem to notice her change in position, probably because she was in the shadowy back.
After the truck didn’t slow and he made no comment, she peeked her eyes open and saw he was once more hunched forward and focused on the road.
Carefully, she turned her head in an arc, searching the backend for a weapon.
There was a spare tire near her feet, wheel chains for climbing mountain roads in the snow. Those chains would be an excellent weapon if they wouldn’t make so much noise when she grabbed them.
Where was a tire iron when you needed one? Hell, where was a gun when you needed one?
She felt the zip tie around her wrists, the Rock Star bracelet clanging against the hard plastic ties. If she could sneak up behind CB, she could throw her cuffed hands over his head and use them as a noose to strangle him.
But he’d be armed, and while strangling him would give her great satisfaction at the moment, his hands would be free and he could grab his gun, shoot her, and call it a day.
Of course, he needed her alive for his bargain with Nico.
Even if he didn’t go for his weapon, strangling him would send the Jeep skidding off the road. Jeeps were notorious
for rolling and if they were on any type of mountain, she could end up dead along with him. That would not help Miles…if he was still alive.
He’s alive. I know he’s alive.
The rest of the inventory in the back of the Jeep consisted of a bag that probably held extra winter clothes, but maybe there was a weapon or something in it as well. If she could at least threaten the son of a bitch, he might pull the Jeep over and get out peacefully.
Who was she kidding? Her handler wasn’t the type of operative to go peacefully into the night.
It was going to be a fight. One where she might die.
So be it. Better to go down fighting than end up in Nico’s hands again.
Charlotte shifted slightly, hooking the duffel bag’s handles with a boot toe and scooting it up toward her hands. All the while she kept an eye on CB.
In the distance, she saw lights on the horizon, shining through the blinding snow. They were getting close to a town, a village. Already going slowly because of the weather, CB would have to slow down even more.
That’s my chance. Flat ground, slow-moving vehicle. Even if they did roll, she’d survive.
And then she’d do whatever it took to get back to Miles.
And kill Orlo.
Suddenly, clearing her name with MI6 didn’t mean as much. Stopping Norris, his assassin, and Nicolae Bourean meant more. Between the three of them, they’d taken her mother from her, caused her dad to turn against her, and tried to carve the very soul out of her. If Miles was dead…
She gulped. Then they had succeeded in taking everything.
She felt around the duffel but found nothing more than clothes and a blanket. Norris didn’t slow down as they winged through the village. No one else was out, not even snow plows, so his drive was free of everything but the snow.
With no gun to hold to his head, she couldn’t force him to pull over. There was only one way to stop the Jeep and that meant attacking him. She really needed her hands free.
Charlotte ran the scenario through her mind. How she would scoot so she was directly behind him. How she could pop up on her knees, swing her arms over his head, and yank backwards, effectively pinning him around the throat.
She worried the bracelet’s charm with her fingers.
Shinedown had said it held a GPS tracker, which was why Miles had insisted she wear it, but who would find her out here in time?
What else had he said it contained? A wire saw, a lock pick. She nearly banged her head against the seat. Of course. Why hadn’t she thought of that earlier?
Blame it on her fuzzy head. Charlotte fiddled with the charms, the lock, her cold fingers struggling with the catch. Suddenly, it popped open and she tried to catch it, but it fell to the muddy carpet.
She ran her fingers over the carpet, keeping her upper body still. There. She felt metal.
Like a blind person, she stroked the large center gold plate that read ‘Rock Star’ on it, then ran her fingers around the edge underneath.
The woman in charge of SFI was one smart cookie. The former NSA operative knew a thing or two about secret tools.
Around the inside edge of the bracelet, Charlotte’s fingers found the tiny, thin saw blade that popped out of the metal when she pushed on the charm. She’d seen similar tools hidden in rings and other jewelry that agents wore in case they found themselves in a situation like hers with plastic zip ties around their wrists.
Laying the bracelet down, she went to work sawing through the plastic.
“I know you’re awake, Carstons.” CB didn’t even bother to look in the rearview as he remained hunched over the steering wheel. “You can stop playing possum.”
Okay. So surprising him and strangling him might be out.
Sawing through the restraints wasn’t easy when she could only move her hands so far. Still, she sawed faster. “Why did you do it? Sell me out?”
“It wasn’t about you, Carstons. None of it. It was about getting to Blackwater.”
Nothing personal? Was that what he was saying? “You killed my mother, which destroyed my relationship with my father. You made MI6 believe I’m a traitor, and you killed the only man I’ve ever loved. But you’re saying it’s nothing personal?”
“Exactly.” He only had one hand on the wheel now. Probably had his other on a gun. “Your mother was an unfortunate accident that led to that situation with your dad. I tried, believe me, to talk sense into him about putting you in that institute, but he wouldn’t listen. It was serendipity that brought you to me as a fresh recruit for her majesty’s secret service. You have to admit, I turned you into one hell of a good spy. But the big picture here is Blackwater. Not you, not Bourean, certainly not some former SEAL with a hard-on for you.”
A part of her felt totally gutted by all of it, but especially by the idea that Miles was dead. Her stomach cramped and her head swam for a moment. “How did you find out about him?”
“You told me about the video footage and that you’d hid it. Once I knew Bourean had you, I went to the cabin looking for it. You forgot to mention that you’d saved one of the SEALs from that helo. I found the book with Duncan’s note in it so I did some digging. Sure enough, what do you know? One of the SEALs classified KIA was actually alive.”
“You did take my book. I knew it. I never saw the letter Miles left me.”
“Ah, jeez, that poor bastard. He really poured out his heart to you. Hard on a guy’s ego, you know, the way you up and left him without a goodbye. Such a wuss, confessing his love and leaving a contact number anyway, in case you changed your mind. Said he’d keep the cross around his neck until you came back to him. The man needs some balls.”
“He’s more of a man than you’ll ever be.”
“It wasn’t hard to put two and two together. You rescued the SEAL and he fell for you. But you knew your job wasn’t done. You had to go back to Bourean and try to find out who the terrorist was so you could stop him too. Your job came first, not that SEAL. I admired that in you.”
Miles was the only man she’d ever loved, and what had she done? Left him behind to finish her mission. She’d thought she was protecting him, allowing him to go back to his real life because life with her would never be marriage and family. Never be normal.
Yet, he was the only person she’d ever let herself feel anything for since her mother’s death. She should have never walked away. “You’ve never been in love, have you?” she asked quietly.
“Love?” The windshield wipers beat to the sound of his laughter. “No, I never have, and thank God for that. Duty, honor…those things are worth fighting for, Carstons. They mean something in the big picture. The only thing I’ve ever been in love with is my job—something I thought you, of all people, would understand. Soon, I’m going to look Blackwater in the eye and kill that bastard. My life will have meant something. The greater good will prevail. I’ll be a hero.”
Anger rallied. She’d known this type of betrayal in the mental hospital, this torrent of emotion overriding good sense. Someone she trusted had pulled the safety net out from under her. Someone she had believed in had taken her respect and squashed it under their foot like an insignificant bug.
Since the night her mother had died, she hadn’t put faith in anyone. She hadn’t trusted anyone enough to love them and believe they wouldn’t hurt her.
But she had respected this man, thought she understood him. She’d thought they were on the same side.
Funny thing was, they still were. They both still wanted to take down Nicolae Bourean and stop a terrorist at the same time. Only, Norris wanted her to sacrifice herself and everything she’d worked for and believed in, to help him do the job.
Her time in the mental hospital hadn’t been a total waste. She’d learned how to shut down the flood of emotions and be the good little soldier. Her time under Nico’s control had fine-tuned that. She knew better than anyone how to detach from pain and fear and never lose sight of her ultimate goal.
And her ultimate goal right now
was to get back to Miles.
The zip tie snapped. Her hands were free.
“Look, Carstons.” CB turned a corner. “You want Bourean, I want Blackwater. I’ll make sure they both die. All I need is a little help from you.”
A little help, like sacrificing herself for the greater good. “What village is ahead?” she asked. The lights were closer now; they were almost there. She needed to calculate how far they’d come, how far she had to go to get back to the cabin.
“Village?” Norris met her gaze in the rearview for a moment. “This is no village.”
“What is it, then?”
“Don’t you recognize it? The castle beyond the gates?”
She squinted through the snow pelting against the windshield. “Should I?”
“It’s the compound. Bourean’s compound.”
Her chest seized for a moment. They’d come farther than she’d thought.
With a deep breath, she willed the sharp edge of her fear to recede. No emotions. Only action. “I do understand your commitment to stopping Blackwater, to making a difference in the world.” This was no longer about him selling her out to MI6. Oh no, this was much more personal. “So I know you’ll understand my commitment to helping you. I’m in.”
A flash of a grin showed in the rearview. “I had hoped you would come around.”
She returned his smile, rubbing her thumb over the Rock Star bracelet before sliding it back on.
Then, sending up a prayer to her Gypsy ancestors, she propelled herself forward and went for his jugular.
BACK ROADS IN Romania were nothing to mess with. Especially in a winter blizzard.
Miles checked his watch’s coordinates again, the red beeping dot signaling he was near Jaxon’s meeting place. The mountain range and the snow had played havoc on the GPS system, but he’d taken a moment to hot wire the watch to the satellite phone and had been receiving a fairly steady signal since. He’d wanted to keep on Charlotte’s trail, but the reality was, he knew where her abductor was headed. What he needed before he busted into Bourean’s compound was a plan.