Hot Rebel

by Lynn Raye Harris

  They’d gotten the dossier on Igor Chernovsky from Black. The most current photo of the scientist was only a week old. He was tall and lean, with the gaunt look of a man who lived off caffeine and cigarettes and probably forgot to eat half the time. Chernovsky didn’t look like a well man, that’s for certain, though there was nothing about him being ill in the dossier.

  Nick scanned the crowd again, but there was still no sign of Chernovsky. If the man was here, he wasn’t coming outside. Nor was he walking in front of any of the many illuminated windows of the consulate.

  Nick scrubbed a hand through his hair and growled in frustration. Beside him, Victoria looked up from the weapon she’d been cradling against her cheek. The long rifle was sleek and beautiful, ready to kill with a single squeeze of the trigger.

  Victoria was much the same, he thought, without a trace of irony. He’d worked with other snipers before, but none had been quite so intense as she was. Then again, none of them were dealing with the emotional turmoil of a sister being held by a terrorist. Victoria had been quiet since the call from Emily. It killed him that he had no information for her, but the best he could do was hope that HOT figured out where her sister was before it was too late.

  He didn’t know what to say to her other than to tell her that he believed in the colonel’s ability to deliver. And that he usually did.

  But he wasn’t as certain this time. And there wasn’t a fucking thing he could do about it, though he kept trying to imagine how he could create the outcome Victoria wanted. He had no answers, and it pissed him off.

  “You okay?” she asked, her voice a little rusty.

  “Yeah. You?”

  She shrugged and turned back to her weapon and the scope mounted on top of it. “I’m all right. I just want to get the fuck out of here.”

  “I know.” They’d argued about who was going to take the shot. He’d said she was too upset and angry. She’d said he was too arrogant and too used to getting his way. In the end, he’d suggested they flip for it.

  She’d told him to fuck off and stationed herself at the weapon. He’d finally decided, after fighting the urge to drag her up bodily and prove to her that there was at least one area of life in which she obeyed him without question, that fighting about it would serve no purpose other than to piss them both off. And cancel out any chance he stood of getting in her panties once this was over.

  He scanned the crowd again, almost bored with the routine—but this time a chill shot through him as the binocs landed on a new arrival. A tall, gaunt man in a tuxedo emerged from a car that had just pulled up in front of the consulate. The man held a lit cigarette in one hand and a briefcase in another. He turned and looked toward the road, almost as if he were looking at the apartment where they were hidden, and then flicked the cigarette from his fingers before ducking into the building.

  Fuck. The fact the man had a briefcase did not bode well for the idea that Chernovsky didn’t have vials with him. Maybe it was papers, but maybe it wasn’t.

  “Chernovsky’s arrived,” he said, and he felt Victoria tense beside him for a split second. “He’s carrying a briefcase.”

  “Shit… I should call Ian.”

  Nick started to tell her not to do it just yet when the next car disgorged its passenger. Nick was still watching, out of habit, when Ian Black stepped out into the open. Nick’s eyes bulged as Black moved away from the car. His face was wreathed in smiles as he greeted someone who hurried over and shook his hand.

  “I don’t think you should call Ian.”

  “Holy shit,” Victoria said, and he knew she’d seen Black. “Why didn’t he fucking tell us he’d be here?”

  “I don’t know. But I don’t like it.” Nick whipped out his phone and pressed the button to speed-dial HQ. Mendez answered on the first ring.

  “Chernovsky’s arrived and he’s got a briefcase. Ian Black is here too.”

  Mendez swore. Nick held the phone away from his ear for a long minute while the colonel turned the air blue.

  “That wily son of a bitch,” Mendez said when he could form a complete sentence. “He’s the fucking buyer, and he needs you to kill Chernovsky so he either doesn’t have to pay or the scientist doesn’t make another deal. Goddammit!”

  That’s pretty much what Nick was thinking too. Why else would Black send them on this secretive goose chase and not tell them he was also going to be in Ras al-Dura at the appointed time?

  “Do we take the shot or not?”

  Mendez didn’t answer for a moment, though Nick could hear the man swearing under his breath. “Take the shot. Let Black win this round, but only because we’re fucking going after him next.”

  “Copy, sir.”

  “And Brandy?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Your team is there along with Echo Squad, but there’s no time to get you wired in. You’ll have to go this alone, son.”

  “Not a problem, sir. It’s what I do.”

  “Good luck.”

  *

  Victoria couldn’t believe what her scope was showing her. Ian Black chatted with another man, smiling and laughing as he held a drink in his hand. Periodically, he seemed to look toward the apartment building. He knew they were there, of course. And he knew they were watching.

  She kept expecting him to take his phone out and text her or something, but her phone remained silent. She’d threatened to quit earlier. For all he knew, she had. Was he here to do the job himself? Or was he here because he was the buyer?

  If so, why the fuck did he need her to kill Chernovsky?

  Colonel Mendez had told Nick to go through with the job, so that’s what they were doing. If Ian was the buyer, then they had to stay on target and eliminate Chernovsky. And if Ian wasn’t the buyer, they still had to stop the scientist. Maybe Ian was there to prevent the vials from falling into rogue hands. That’s what she hoped, anyway.

  Because no matter how pissed she was at Ian for various reasons, she’d always thought he was honorable. She’d never wanted to believe he’d set her up, and when he insisted he hadn’t, she’d been relieved.

  But what if she was a fool? What if she was a poor judge of character and Ian was as dirty as seven-day-old socks?

  She told herself that she’d pegged Jonah right, and Rascal—and hell, even Zaran bin Yusuf since she’d never liked him. But what if she’d gotten Ian wrong?

  “No sign of Chernovsky,” Nick said from his position beside her. “One mil right.”

  She dialed as he said, but she searched Ian out again. Still talking, still laughing and acting like he was right at home. Disavowed CIA. Russian spy? Double agent?

  God, Gramps had to be spinning in his grave at the idea she’d worked for this man for two years.

  Victoria chewed the inside of her lip. She was hurt and angry, and she wanted to call Ian and ask him what the fuck. But she wouldn’t. She’d do this damn job, and she’d walk right back into his compound and pretend she was a happy little soldier.

  Because, more than anything, she wanted answers. If she had to help Nick break into Ian’s server room herself, she’d do it.

  “Chernovsky. Twelve o’clock.”

  Victoria’s breathing slowed as she found her target and concentrated on him. Once she pulled this trigger, the party would descend into chaos. She and Nick would have seconds to get out before the apartment was swarmed by Russians or Qu’rimi authorities—or both. They’d planned their escape route to the second. All she had to do was pull the trigger to set it into motion.

  Chernovsky didn’t have the briefcase this time. Not that she’d expected him to. Her finger rested over the trigger, but she couldn’t shoot just yet. Chernovsky was standing too near a group of innocent bystanders.

  “Black’s on the move,” Nick said, and Victoria’s heart squeezed tight. She couldn’t follow Ian when she had to follow Chernovsky.

  But Ian passed into her field of view. He didn’t speak to Chernovsky. He simply walked by the man.

 
; Chernovsky bent to pick something up off the ground. The crowd slid in front of him and Victoria made a sound of frustration. But then his tall head rose above the rest and he turned and walked toward the edge of the gathering, moving in the same direction Ian had gone.

  “This is it, Victoria.”

  “I know.”

  She followed him away from the crowd. He didn’t go far, but he moved into a place where no one else was around. She thought Ian might appear, but he didn’t.

  “Now. It has to be now.”

  She heard the urgency in Nick’s voice, but she had her own rhythm of doing things. She pulled in a breath—and exhaled slowly, her finger squeezing the tight trigger back toward her body. She said a prayer for Igor Chernovsky’s soul as she took the shot that would end his life.

  She always said a prayer. She didn’t doubt that the killings were necessary—kill one, save thousands—but they were still husbands, fathers, sons, and brothers to someone. Someone, somewhere, must have loved them at one time even if others feared the destruction they could cause.

  The shot hit its target. Igor Chernovsky dropped to the ground, and the crowd erupted in screams.

  Nick bolted to his feet and began breaking down his equipment. Victoria disassembled the sniper rifle and stowed it quickly. They’d wiped the apartment for prints earlier, packed everything they didn’t need, and set the bags near the door. All they had to do was grab their gear and go.

  Across the street, the consulate erupted in pandemonium. Somewhere a siren blared into the night. Victoria slung her pack over her shoulder, grabbed her case, and shot for the door behind Nick.

  They shouldered the rest of what they needed and then burst out the door and down the hall. Alarms were sounding in the night as they raced into a utility stairwell and started pounding down the stairs. If they encountered anyone, they’d have to determine quickly if it was friend or foe and act.

  But no one got in their way as they ran into the parking garage and raced for the Land Rover. Nick had moved the vehicle earlier, putting it near the exit. There were other cars in the garage, but no one else was there. People were home, for the most part, and settling in for the night. Except now their night was interrupted by the sounds of sirens and screaming.

  Nick threw their gear in the car and covered it with blankets; then he got into the driver’s seat while she took the passenger’s after whipping a burka over her head and settling it over her clothing. They’d determined he’d be the driver earlier, and she was actually glad of it, considering how drained she felt.

  The street in front of the consulate was blocked off as the Russians quickly took charge of the situation. Nick turned the opposite direction from the consulate and started down the street. If they could just reach the end, they’d slide into the city traffic and become anonymous.

  But an armored car shot across the intersection and blocked the road.

  “Fuck,” Nick muttered as he slammed on the brake. There were other cars caught in the jam besides them, so it wasn’t immediately dangerous.

  But it was dangerous. If the Russians insisted on searching their car—and they likely would since neither one of them was Qu’rimi—they’d be discovered.

  Victoria reached inside her burka and put her hand on her Sig. Her heart thumped, and sweat rolled between her breasts. If the Russians took them into custody, she didn’t have high hopes for their fate once the guns were found.

  A helicopter suddenly appeared overhead, its rotors whipping frantically. For a scant moment, Victoria thought it might be Nick’s people coming to help them—

  But a searchlight flicked on and began sweeping over the traffic as if searching for something.

  When it stopped on their car and lingered, Victoria had to shield her eyes from the glare. She prayed it would go away again, that it was temporary.

  But the glare stayed—and a voice boomed from a loudspeaker.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “Fucking hell, this is going to shit fast.” It was Big Mac who’d spoken.

  No one disagreed with him.

  “We’ve got to get them out of there,” Garrett said. “If the Russians get them…”

  He didn’t need to say what would happen then. If the Russians got Brandy and Victoria, it was over. Because HOT wasn’t going to be allowed to charge in and take their teammate from the Russians. The Cold War was a long time ago, but even though missiles weren’t pointed at each other’s cities anymore, it still wasn’t a good idea to piss off the guys who maintained an entire nuclear arsenal they could aim at you if they wanted. The Russians might have destroyed a lot of weapons under the various treaties in place since the Berlin Wall fell, but that didn’t mean they had nothing left.

  They had plenty, and everyone in this organization knew it.

  “If we get caught interfering in a Russian operation,” Richie Rich growled over his comm link, “there will be diplomatic hell to pay.”

  “We won’t get caught.” It was Hawk who’d spoken that time. “Dex and I can disable the helicopter, and then we’ll fire on the armored car. They’ll think they’re under attack from outside, and they’ll shift focus. If we can get them to move, Brandy’ll know what to do.”

  “Do it,” Richie said.

  “Copy.”

  Garrett waited in an alley with Sam “Knight Rider” McKnight. Their eyes met in the darkness and they nodded. Garrett gripped his assault rifle tighter, ready to go on the attack if it was necessary.

  They’d been tasked with getting into position and helping Brandy escape if it became necessary. Echo Squad was also working the scene, preventing anyone from leaving the consulate grounds without being searched. Since there were NATO troops deployed to Ras al-Dura to help the Qu’rimi government maintain the peace, Echo Squad was acting in that capacity, blending into the background and acting as peacekeepers would. They were tasked with not allowing the virus to get out of the consulate. It wasn’t an easy job, and Garrett hoped like hell they succeeded.

  If they were lucky, Chernovsky hadn’t had the virus with him in the first place. But there was no way of knowing that for certain.

  The helicopter hovering over the traffic seemed to have targeted one car in particular, but then the spotlight moved on and the voice over the loudspeaker kept issuing orders to the street in general. The Russians were searching for something, but they didn’t quite know what. Still, as quickly as they’d mobilized, it wasn’t a good sign they were planning to give up the search anytime soon.

  Suddenly there was a metallic pop and twang—and the whine of the helo’s rotors grew high-pitched as smoke poured from the tail. The pilot only had seconds to act before the fuel caught fire. The craft suddenly banked to the left, and the helo went down on the massive grounds of the consulate. Men poured from the interior before the vehicle caught fire, and Garrett turned his attention toward the intersection where the armored car still blocked the street.

  The night air exploded with the sound of rapid gunfire. Hawk and Double Dee were firing on the car—and the occupants were firing back. A good sign, he hoped.

  The armored car roared forward and then back again—and then it turned, facing the direction of the gunfire. Garrett hoped it was just the opening Brandy needed to get free.

  “Come on, Brandy, step on the fucking gas,” Garrett muttered. A second later, a Land Rover bounced up onto the sidewalk and shot alongside the traffic. Gunfire blazed from the passenger side as it careened into the intersection on two wheels. The armored car couldn’t turn fast enough to stop the Land Rover from shooting into the gap.

  Metal scraped against metal as the vehicle forced its way between cars that were sitting too close for it to pass smoothly. Tires squealed and engines whined as the intersection turned into a bumper-car derby—but then Brandy sped out the other side and gunned the engine. Horns blared and drivers yelled, but the Land Rover disappeared behind some buildings.

  “Fuck, that was close,” Sam said.

  “Amen, br
other. Keep going, Brandy. Drive the fuck out of that bitch and get away safe.”

  *

  “We have no choice, Nick,” Victoria said as they sped through the city streets. “We have to use Ian’s contacts as planned.”

  Nick gripped the wheel hard. “He’s fucking dirty, Victoria. How do we know he won’t turn us over now that he has what he wants? Jesus, that helicopter arrived damn fast considering it was mere minutes since we’d fired. How did the Russians mobilize so quickly?”

  She’d been asking herself the same thing. But why would Ian tell the Russians they were there when it would reveal he had knowledge about the situation?

  “You may be right. But how else are we getting across the desert without his help? Unless your guys have set up an escape route for us?”

  Nick growled. “This mission is under the radar, so no.”

  “Under the radar? You didn’t tell me that before.”

  He threw a hard glance at her. “No.”

  Frustration was a solid lump in her throat. If this was under the radar, then maybe they’d promised her the moon without ever intending to deliver.

  No. She wasn’t going to think like that. Not yet.

  “And you still aren’t going to tell me a damn thing, I take it?”

  “I can’t. Just trust me.”

  “I do trust you.” It was true. And not just because he’d been inside her, making love to her so sweetly she’d cried with the joy of it. She trusted him because he was too damn decent not to. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to know the details anyway.”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  “I think you fucking can. We’re running for our lives, and I’ve risked everything by getting you into Ian’s organization. The least you can do is be straight with me in return.”

  “Jesus, you never give up.”

  “No.”

  He shot her a look. “This could mean my ass, you realize.” Then he sighed. “There’s nothing much to tell. This isn’t a sanctioned op, and we’re all taking a risk trying to expose Black. But he’s getting his information from somewhere, quite possibly the CIA, and Mendez wants to know where the leak is. There’s more to it, including an operation that nearly cost one of our teammates his life, and that of his wife and son too. We almost didn’t get there in time. And we still don’t know who suppressed the information, but there could be a link to Black. Expose him, find the bastard.”