“No. The company. There. Feel that?” He put her thumb over the fat-lump at the swell of her forearm, a few inches down from her elbow.
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s a tracking device. Somehow the MSS has locked onto it”—he jerked his head behind them—“and they’re going to home in on you.”
“You can’t be serious.” Her handler had specifically told her there was no way to track her like that. Sarah had asked. It was the kind of thing she’d wanted to know about back in the beginning.
What if her handler didn’t know about it? What if someone else had done this to her?
“What do we do?” she asked.
“Come on. There’s a pharmacy two blocks over.” He grabbed her elbow and hauled her forward.
Rand snatched what looked like a huge piece of tinfoil out of a garbage can and wrapped it around her arm. On closer inspection, it had more in common with a windshield reflector than foil.
“Will this help?” she asked.
“Maybe. Anything to disrupt the signal.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Cut it out.”
“Seriously?” A dozen different spy movies came to mind. She doubted it would go quite so easily for her.
“You have a better plan? Because if we don’t cut that out, I see my options as kill you or kill you.”
Holy shit. She couldn’t breathe.
This was bad.
“The Koreans are about the worst people to be captured by.” Rand kept his voice low and her close to his side. “There’d be nothing left of you to save—and the company will deny our presence or their involvement with us. If you want to live, I need to cut that tracking device out.”
“But…my doctor said it was just a fat deposit.”
“Look, if you want to argue—”
“No, no. I’m sorry, I’m just—this is above my pay grade.” She took a deep breath. It was fun and all to play at being a spy, but in reality, she was a glorified delivery girl. She didn’t mind her role. She was proud of what she did, and it didn’t hurt that her everyday employer got preferred treatment when it came to funding. Because the more they were able to expand, the more valuable she was to the company.
He squeezed her hand. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said.
Rand…
He’d told her that when her dad insisted the training wheels come off her bike.
He’d told her that when she’d been too scared to walk past the older kids at school on their way home.
He’d told her that so many times.
And he’d never let her down. Not once.
Now she’d have to trust him with her life and pray that when he figured out she was his former best friend’s little sister he didn’t leave her high and dry like he’d done with Matt.
…
Rand grabbed a bottle of antiseptic from the shelf and tossed it in his basket. His jaw hurt from holding the flashlight between his teeth, but he’d had to cut the power to keep the alarm from going off.
This was going to shit fast, and if he didn’t figure out how to lose their tail, he didn’t see many options left.
Someone at the company had not only bugged her, but sold Courier Girl’s tracking tag frequency. The stuff they used these days was high tech. Unless someone had the information to tune in to her specific device, maybe even a password, she should be invisible to the Koreans.
He couldn’t deal with conspiracy theories yet. First, he had to keep her alive. Then, they’d figure out where to go from there. His established safe house was out of the question now.
If she’d been sold out, then chances were he had been, too. He couldn’t risk that kind of danger.
And what about his asset in North Korea?
Everything was changing faster than he could brainstorm contingency plans for his contingency plans.
Rand carried his haul back to the break room. CG had a few battery-operated lanterns set up on the counter and was scrubbing her arm in preparation for his field surgery.
He hadn’t been able to get a clear look at her, besides, they’d had more important things to worry about. Every time there was light, he found himself staring down at a head of dark hair and nothing else. She was petite, much shorter than him, which was probably why she fit in so well on the street and was able to move around without much notice. He could probably pick her up under one arm and carry her for miles. Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that.
She turned off the water and shifted, the light catching her face. The memory punched him in the gut so hard he couldn’t breathe.
The upturned nose. The slight widow’s peak she’d hated and tried to shave off as a child.
He was staring, but by God, this had to be a dream. “Sarah?” His mind screamed. No! Don’t say her name! It can’t be real.
She was taller now, but not by much. Her cheeks were no longer round and rosy. She’d been just out of college when he’d seen her last. They’d been in her brother’s hospital room, and she’d cried on his shoulder. He’d held her, hating himself for thinking more about her than her brother.
His heart knocked around in his chest, and those long-dormant emotions sprang to painful awareness.
He’d harbored one hell of a forbidden crush for her. All those afternoons helping her with her homework and making sure the boys in her class knew not to mess with her. His best friend’s little sister.
“Hi.” She didn’t seem shocked to see him.
“You knew.” Not a question.
“I guessed. You sent your parents that painting of the Seoul city line.”
She’d known who he was? And she hadn’t sold him to the Koreans? After what he’d done to her brother?
Holy hell.
“I’d love to catch up and all, but I’m going to lose my nerve if we don’t do this right now.” Her voice was steady, but reed-thin. It was hard to imagine the girl he’d grown up with, scared of her own shadow, here. In the middle of all this shit.
Which brought him crashing into the present.
Sarah had a tracker in her arm. A device that endangered her life. And it was up to him to cut it out or kill her. Because he would not allow her to be captured. He’d rather take the bullet himself if he could, but if it came down to getting captured or dying, a fast death was kinder.
He swallowed. The part of him that had always been drawn to her smile was repulsed by the idea of ending her life, but he knew what torture did to a person. How it warped them. That couldn’t happen to her.
He set the basket down and lined up the supplies, grounding himself using the momentary activity. He’d save her life, and then get some answers.
“I’ve got these for later.” He shook a bottle of painkillers. “I’d give them to you now, but you look like hell. I don’t want them to knock you out.”
“Gee, thanks.” One side of her mouth twisted up.
He remembered that smile, how she used to pull his leg, make him think he’d hurt her feelings. Those were the worst, those few moments he spent kicking himself for being scum, and then she’d laugh at him. Man, she’d been a brat sometimes.
He twisted open a topical anesthetic and waited for her to extend her hand toward him. Her throat flexed. The girl he remembered used to cry over a skinned knee, and now he was asking her to hold it together while he cut a chunk of skin out of her. He couldn’t decide if he was more proud of her, or disgusted with what he had to do.
Rand traced the six-inch scar. He hated seeing the lasting marks of pain on her body. She was all his best memories of the life before rolled into one person. He’d wondered about her often enough over the years, and now here she was. The best damn thing he’d seen in ages.
“How’d this happen?” He slicked the liquid over her skin.
“Long story. I’ll tell you about it later.” She gripped the edge of the counter. Her face creased in anticipation of pain.
“I’ll hold you to it.”
He was th
irsty for more. Anything to do with Matt, Sarah, their family. He’d grown up across the street from them. Their parents had been best friends, and Matt was practically his brother. Sarah, though, he’d always felt closer to her. Being without them these eight years…he’d missed part of himself. But after what he’d done, he couldn’t be near them. Going cold turkey without them had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done.
“This is going to hurt some. It’s scar tissue, so it shouldn’t be as bad. You can’t scream, okay?”
“Do it already,” she snapped.
He felt for the chip again.
There, just under the surface.
He uncapped the scalpel and pressed the tip along the scar that ran the length of her forearm.
What kind of an accident had she been in that caused this? The most dangerous thing Sarah had ever done growing up was volleyball. He couldn’t even coax her up into his treehouse, for Christ’s sake.
“Come on already,” she snapped.
Rand applied more pressure to the blade. She hissed. The skin yielded, blood bubbling up, but he didn’t stop.
He couldn’t allow himself to get caught up in the reality that this was Sarah. His Sarah. Right now she had to be another operative, someone who knew the score. The tracker had to come out, or they were both dead. The how or why she’d been burned—or what the hell she was doing here in the first place—didn’t matter right now, only that he could save her. The cut-throat voice in the back of his head pointed out that she also knew his name, where his parents lived, and other crucial information he could not allow to fall into the wrong hands.
But this was Sarah.
Her name was a punch to the gut. The smell of her brought back all the old memories of Christmases and summers spent together. She was so much more important than another agent or asset.
She was…his.
Rand shut the door on that thought before it led to more. There was too much history, too much shit, in their past.
First, he’d cut the chip out. Then, he’d figure the rest out.
“I’m going to be sick.” Sarah panted, slumped over the sink.
“Almost got it. Hang with me.” He needed to distract her. Get her talking. “How’re your parents?”
“Good.”
“Seen Mom and Dad lately?”
“Seven months ago?”
“How’re they looking? Dad’s knee holding out?”
“Yeah, I think so. Oh, God.” She buried her face against the crook of her other arm.
He grabbed the tweezers and worked the tiny bit of metal out from the tissue. “Got it.” He dropped it into the drain and turned on the water.
The MSS guys could chase that for a bit. Good luck to them.
“How you holding up?” He poured the peroxide on her arm.
Sarah’s eyes bulged and she grabbed a towel, covering her face with it. She smothered a yell and stomped her foot. The liquid bubbled and frothed. It wasn’t kind. He could be gentler, but there wasn’t time for that.
He wrapped her arm in gauze and a bandage, doing a hack job. Later, he could dress the wound properly, sew it up. For now, he’d just be happy if she didn’t leave a blood trail.
Rand doused the area in bleach and did a quick wipe-down. It would have to do.
“Come on.” He wrapped an arm around Sarah’s waist and steered her toward the back door.
“I don’t feel so hot.”
“You’re doing great. Hold out just a little bit longer, okay? How long were you in the air? When’s the last time you ate?”
There was a place he could go. It wasn’t his, but they didn’t have the luxury of being picky.
“I dozed on the plane, but I haven’t eaten since… Wow. Dizzy.”
Shit.
“Come on, you can do this.” Rand tightened his grip a moment before Sarah’s knees gave way and she slumped against him, all the life gone out of her.
Great. Now he just had to carry her eight blocks and avoid the MSS. No problem, right?
…
Kim Young-sik glared at the cell phone. He was right over the signal—and the target was nowhere to be seen. The American girl was gone. Vanished. They’d almost had her. He’d seen her. Knew what the whites of her eyes looked like when she was scared. And somehow she and the man she’d met up with had still managed to evade them.
“Spread out. She can’t be far.” He shoved the phone into his pocket and turned to the two shadows at his back. The MSS agents melted into the night on silent feet.
If they lost the girl… He didn’t want to contemplate that.
For the price he’d paid for the information, there would be others on her trail. They needed to get to her first. There was a mole on the north side of the DMZ, and Young-sik intended to cut their throat for that betrayal. First, he’d find the American girl.
She’d be easy to break.
Chapter Two
Sarah’s head was being beaten by an angry army of toddlers. Or, that was what it felt like. At least her nephew wasn’t gnawing on her ear, like that one time she’d fallen asleep on the sofa after too much wine. Emily had just watched and let it happen. The bitch.
And what the hell was that smell?
She was in bed, but everything else was fuzzy around the edges. Jet lag did weird things to her head.
Sarah rubbed her face with both hands. Her left arm twinged with a deep, painful cramp. She hissed and stretched it out.
“Careful,” a deep voice said right next to her. As in, in-the-bed-with-her close.
Sarah turned her head, struggling to recall the last few hours—or yesterday, even—but it was a blur.
“Where am I?” And who was he?
“Seoul.”
Rand.
Her stomach tightened, and her toes curled. The lust uncurling in her chest chilled. Nothing good would land her in a bed with him. All her girlish daydreams about waking up exactly like this died a miserable, wailing death.
How much shit was she in? What had happened to bring them together?
The last thing she remembered was being at the airport and…a call with Irene…and then…it went a lot fuzzy.
She sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes with her right hand. She had that yucky cotton-head feeling and her mouth was dry. Had she taken something?
“The painkillers did a real number on you.” Rand sat up, the early morning light highlighting his broken features, the deep scars. They’d aged, some lessening, so he appeared more like the guy she remembered and less like the wounded hero. He was still as ruggedly handsome as the day he walked out of her life a broken man.
“What happened?” Pills. That was why she felt so funny. She cradled her aching head in her hands.
“Short version, the company put a tracker in your arm, and someone sold you out to the MSS. More of us might be in danger. I don’t know yet.” He was either frowning, or his face was stuck that way. “Tracker’s gone. Haven’t made contact yet.”
“I was running—and you were there.”
“Drink.” He pushed a bottle of chilled water into her hand.
Sarah drank the liquid greedily. Her empty stomach cramped. How long had it been since she’d eaten? She couldn’t begin to process Rand’s succinct account of what’d happened. Not before tea and a meal.
“There’s food in the kitchen.” He thumbed over his shoulder. Like many small Korean apartments, the space was a single room, with an entry that doubled as a kitchen. She was willing to bet the bathroom was there, too.
“Starving. How long was I out?”
“You passed out for a bit, then we got here, and you conked out for the last six hours.”
She’d arrived in Seoul late in the afternoon, cooled her heels until time to do the drop… Which meant it now had to be mid-to-late afternoon. Not morning at all.
“Shit. I missed my flight.” Sarah stood, still wearing her shoes, jeans, and T-shirt she’d left the States wearing.
“You’re still ali
ve.”
“I know, but—”
She should have been in China. Her drop there was for eight tonight. Then on to meet up with Charlie, the agent over all the operatives in Asia. Truth be told, she wasn’t sad about missing time with him. Ever since their failed fling, she never quite knew how to act around him. Things had changed, and he wasn’t the man she’d first met. He’d never been like Rand. No one could measure up to him, though. That was just the way of things.
“I have to call in.” She turned toward Rand and the small bed they’d shared.
“No.”
“Rand—”
“Someone at the company bugged you. And someone sold you out. You know what that means?”
“You can’t be serious.” She leaned against a desk, the only other furniture in the room.
Rand stood, unfolding his big body to his full height, towering over her. She gulped and stared up at him. She’d always been the vertically challenged one. It made for great hugs, though. Rand in particular had always liked picking her up, and deep down she’d always loved that moment of trust, knowing he’d never drop her.
He was telling her she’d been burned…and all she could think about were old times.
It was too much to wrap her head around.
“W-what do we do?” She was a courier. She took things from point A to point B, and that was it. Her training was minimal. This job was supposed to be low risk. Then why was she in an apartment with her arm cut open and no way to know if it was safe to leave the country?
The lines around Rand’s mouth deepened.
“Say it,” she demanded. Years apart, and she still knew when he was holding back.
“What was the nature of your mission?”
“I’m a courier. That’s it. I only have one operative I meet face-to-face, the rest are all dead drops.”
“Any idea what you’re transporting?”
She shook her head.
“Where’s the rest of your stuff?”
“In a locker at the airport.”
“Key?”
“In the jacket we tossed.”
“Shit.” Rand paced the length of the small apartment. “I can work with that.”
Spy Games (Tarnished Heroes) Page 2