by J. R. Rain
The scent of tuberose wafted into the room on a slight breeze. Someone had opened the French doors to the balcony outside Domingo’s room. Oh no. There had been a henchman waiting for the first sign of trouble. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught movement. Trapped and in real trouble now. The bodyguard who’d come through the front door took another step forward. He was large, bulky and one ugly son-of-a-bitch. Of course he was. I crouched down further as the bodyguard fired off a round of bullets. One grazed my shoulder. Thank God I was amped up on adrenaline. The sting zinged down my arm as blood seeped out. Scooching under the bed, I heard the bodyguard reloading. My vision was blocked some from the chair next to the bed, as I tried to get a lock on my target.
There was no time to waste or wait, knowing he was going to start firing again at any minute. I eyed the man’s knees and pulled the trigger, getting him on the side of the leg. He yelled out and fell to one knee, giving me just enough time to get out from underneath the bed. I aimed again and this time it wasn’t at his knees. The man fell to his death from my last shot. There were no bullets left in the chamber. I scurried out from behind the bed and ran over to where the bodyguard’s gun lay, and grabbed it—semi-automatic.
Loud shouts came from the downstairs foyer, above the samba music. “Get down, get the fuck down! Now!”
Thank God! I recognized the voices as I spun around to see Noah Kensington, his light blue eyes trained on me. “Nice work,” he said. He grabbed me by the arm and shoved me back down as another round of gunfire ricocheted off the walls inside the expansive master suite. Two more bodyguards entered the room, their weapons blazing, as Noah and I rolled opposite off one another, headed into corners where we could take better aim at the enemy. The guards were shooting randomly. Not good. I couldn’t see Noah. Images in the room blurred between bullets spraying chips of plaster off the walls, glass shattering and loud music blaring over the speakers.
Noah shot one of the guards in the face, his hands coming up to protect it as he dropped his weapon. I watched as the other guard turned around and saw what had happened—and locked on Noah. There was no time to think as I dove at him, bringing the large man down to the ground, where he thrashed and threw me off like a rag doll. I hit the wall hard, but it had given Noah the time he needed to take him out.
Noah bent down next to me as I held the back of my head. It was definitely hurting, and I knew it would get worse. He looked me up and down. “You okay? Pretty nasty bang there.” I nodded. “Holy shit, Ky, you’re bleeding.”
“I know.” I glanced at my shoulder. “Just a scrape. Barely touched me.”
“Can you get up?”
“Yeah.”
He reached out his hand and I took it. I groaned. Yep. It was all going to hurt tomorrow. “Thank you,” he said. “Guy almost killed me.”
“No problem. Back at you. Guy almost killed me, too.”
Standing up, we took inventory of the carnage. On the ground was a dead Domingo Rodriguez, killed by one of the many bullets exchanged during the gunfire. There were four dead bodyguards. I was sure many more were spread out across the Rodriguez estate. The Calvary had indeed arrived. Not soon enough as far as I was concerned. Not soon enough.
The pounding of feet running up the stairs signified that the team along with several other CIA and DEA agents were on their way up. Noah threw his gun onto the bed and took off his T-shirt. He tossed it to me, my heart was still racing and the adrenaline pumping through me made me light headed. Then it hit me! I was clad only in a bra and a miniscule pair of panties. Cold snaked down through my body chilling me inside and out, not only from the lack of clothing, but more so from the thought of what Domingo Rodriguez could’ve done to me, and how close of a call it had really been.
Straightening the T-shirt out around me, I glanced at Noah. A bluish bruise streaked across one side of his face, blood splattered on his high cheekbones and slightly crooked nose. Tanned and toned, Noah Kensington was not hard to look at. But I hated that he looked at me the way he did at that moment—his eyes full of pity. Please. But we had saved each other’s lives and he’d given me the shirt off his back. Plus I was fucking alive. Thank God I was alive. And, thank God the T-shirt reached below my butt, so I didn’t feel quite so exposed as the room filled with agents, guns drawn.
I crossed my arms in front of me, heat rising to my cheeks. “Where the hell were you?”
Noah laid a hand on my uninjured shoulder. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault. When we lost contact I started to gear up the team, but I really thought we should hold off for a little bit. It was a fine line there of trusting you and then possibly losing this guy forever. Before the bug went out of range, we hadn’t picked up anything to signal that he was on to you. I thought we were losing the signal because of the location with the mountain range behind us.
“What? You thought, let’s wait it out and see if she makes it?” I pushed his hand off my shoulder. “Come on.”
“Of course not. You know your job. You know how to do it. I mean, hell you’re a highly trained PSI agent. I wasn’t getting any kind of read that you were in danger.” He cast his eyes away from me. “Last time we went in too early with a raid I thought you were going to have my goddamn head. I wasn’t exactly eager to piss you off again.”
Hands on my hips, I shook my head. “That was totally different. We were raiding a Chicago south side apartment for a prostitution ring, not going after the biggest drug king in all of Mexico. Let’s seriously think about this. Just think about the reasons you weren’t getting anything. Maybe it’s because your skills lie in reading the past, not present or future,” I replied.
“Told him that. He doesn’t exactly listen to me though,” Ayden Connors said, entering the room. “I told him that I could feel you were in grave danger.” Long and lanky, Ayden was opposite of Noah in so many ways. Ayden tried to hide a smile behind his hazel eyes. His dark hair fell in waves around his ears. “He actually finally started to listen to me when I described your heart rate and the fact that I knew you were tied up and had a scalpel in your panties. Good thinking, Kylie.” He shook his head. “New one on me, though. The panties. Genius.”
I closed my eyes for a second. If only I could have crawled under a rock at that moment. I sighed heavily and glanced at the other faces in the room as someone cleared their throat. Every one of them looked incredulous. The PSI was not the most highly respected group within the ranks of the CIA or among any of the other government agencies who on occasion called on their special skills. There were many who referred to the PSI team members as hoo-do voodoo assholes—and worse.
However, it was the PSI, and our team in particular, whose work led to this bust. And, it was huge. The repercussions of what had just taken place inside the villa outside the small Mexican town of Sayulita would be felt globally within the world of organized crime and on the streets of American cities throughout the U.S. PSI had taken down a major Mexican drug cartel leader, shutting down a killing machine and a billion dollar drug business.
“I think we should discuss this later,” Noah said.
“Good idea, like after I get some clothes on,” I replied.
“You need to have someone take a look at that shoulder, plus you have yourself a nice bruise on your face,” Noah said.
“I’m fine,” I replied, but I didn’t exactly feel it. My body was beginning to ache all over and the pounding in my head was a repetitive drone banging on the inside of my left temple. Noah started to say something else, but I held up my hand. “No. I said I’m fine.” He sighed and dropped it. “I’m out of here,” I said.
One of the DEA muscle men placed a massive palm in front of me as I started to leave Rodriguez’s bedroom. “Wait a minute. You can’t go anywhere. You’ve got to give a detailed report.”
I did my best to smile sweetly at him, but I’m sure I didn’t look too terribly sincere. “I suppose I do, don’t I?”
The agent nodded. “That’s procedure.”
“R
ight. Well, you know what you can do with your procedure today? Shove it up your ass. I’ll give you a report, but not until I’m ready. It’s been a rough day, if you know what I mean.” I winked at him. His jaw fell open and I slid on past him. Little did he know that my tough talk was only that. I wanted to get the hell out of there because I thought if I didn’t that I might shatter into a million pieces.
We headed back to the small, seedy hotel we’d all been holed up in for over a week, riding in silence for the fifteen-minute drive. When I got out of the car, my hands still shook, regardless of the hot humid air billowing around us. I shoved them into the pockets of the jeans I had put on once I’d gotten outside of the villa. The last thing I wanted Noah or Ayden to see was how scared I’d been and, frankly, how scared I still felt.
“Can we talk now?” Noah whispered in my ear, as he held the front door of the hotel open.
“No. Not now. All I want to do is take a hot shower, have a couple of shots of good Tequila, maybe a piece of fresh fish and go to bed. We can talk tomorrow.” I didn’t want to talk at all with Noah. I knew what he wanted to talk about, and that was what had happened the night before between us.
Ayden slid past them. “Great job, sweetheart. Sorry we were so late. And sorry you got banged up. You sure you don’t want someone to take a look at your war wounds there?” He patted Noah on the shoulder. Noah cringed under Ayden’s touch.
“I’m good,” I replied.
Before any of us could make it to the stairs, the tiny, ancient Mexican woman who ran the hotel and was being paid nicely for her help to the PSI came out of her room. “Ay, bueno,” she said. “Venir aqui. Tiene un mensaje.” She handed a note to Noah.
He glanced at it and immediately pulled a cell phone from the pocket of his fatigues. Seconds later he was speaking to someone, and I had a good idea as to who it was. “Right. Yes, sir.” He flipped the phone shut and looked pointedly at me. “You know that date you had planned with a bottle of Patrón? Hate to tell you, but...”
I held up my hand. “I know. Cancel it.”
Chapter Three
Tangier, Morocco
4:30 pm
Orlenda Kobach leaned against the arched window, a slight curve at the corner of her glossed lips as she looked out at the sleek private yacht docked in the teal Mediterranean Sea below. A haze of smoke from her cigarette rose in a toxic swirl around her. The buzz from her intercom disturbed her from her reflections of the past as she pressed the button with the tip of a blood-red painted fingernail. “Didn’t I request that I was not be disturbed?” she said, the sharpness of her slight Russian accent punctuating the end of each word.
“Yes, I know. I apologize, Ms. Kobach. It’s Echidna on the line,” the young man on the other end replied, “with information about the child.”
“Put the call through.” Kobach flicked back her pale blonde hair and sat down in a chair made for a queen. “What do you know?” she asked into the phone.
“We have her. Report is they landed in Tangier moments ago. She’s being taken to the palace. Her leg is injured. She’s sedated.”
“Damn. I didn’t want that girl hurt. I need her clearheaded and willing. Now we have a wounded duck on our hands.”
“It couldn’t be helped.”
“Yes. Fine, then. Tell me, what does the PSI know?”
“They know she was taken. They have ideas. Your name has been mentioned. Simms is on it. He’s preparing to organize a team to go after her.”
Kobach brought her cigarette to her lips and inhaled deeply. “We need to extract her information and reprogram her before the PSI team can locate her. Do what you can to keep them off track. Are you certain this child has the information? Can she really do what they say she can?”
“She definitely can. Simms is beside himself. He’s looking to blame someone, and trust me he’s already started taking names. He’s sent an interceptive team to Los Angeles to take the mother to a safe house.”
“Do you have an address on the house yet?”
“I’m working on it,” the raspy voice replied.
“Get it. Simms is going to cover his ass. He doesn’t want his team to know about his secret,” Kobach said.
“They have the address. He may not want the team to know but I am sure he is going to do everything he can to get the kid back. He knows what she is worth. So, he will tell the team what he needs to, in order to make it happen.”
“That’ll be quite touchy, won’t it. I wonder how Agent Simms will convince his team of his holier than thoughness when he is no better than myself. He wants the child for the same reasons I do.”
Echidna laughed—deep and throaty. “Very true. The team isn’t even aware of the compound.”
“Will Miss Cain be on the team?”
“She’s Simms’ favorite.”
Orlenda smiled. “Good. Make sure Miss Cain discovers information about the compound and learns everything she needs to about the child. You know what I mean.”
“I do.”
“Kylie Cain and her righteous ways... Oh goodness, she will be beside herself when she finds out what her very own government has been doing in the name of freedom.”
“Will do.”
“What else can you tell me, Echidna?”
“Simms had two PSI agents fly in last night and get to the mother. She’s been briefed. I can guarantee that. He’ll need her as a pawn. He’s got two teams out running ops in other areas. They’re unrelated to this. However, one of the operations might matter to you. It has to do with Domingo Rodriguez.”
“That can wait. I know he’s dead. I’ve heard. I’ll deal with that fall out in time. Tell me more about what they know regarding the child.”
“As I said, with two PSI teams unable to back up the two agents already in Los Angeles, Simms’ hands are tied. He’s had to slow it down. I’m sure he’ll pull one of the teams off their current operation and prepare them to locate the kid.”
Kobach stubbed out the rest of her cigarette and leaned back in the chair. “Yes. Good. He’s been forced to slow down. This gives us time to work out our own details.”
“I have other information about more GEPSI kids.”
Kobach rubbed her eyes. She knew there were more of these children out there, besides the ones the PSI had at the compound. Her intuition told her that. “You’ve confirmed this?”
“I have a reliable source.”
“Do you know locations? Names?”
“I’m still working on it. These are kids they plan to bring to the compound,” Echidna replied. “Geryon is helping me out with this.”
Kobach sat up. “I’m not sure if I completely trust Geryon yet. My gut isn’t convinced.”
“You can trust him. I’ve put him to the test.”
“I’m sure you did.” Kobach laughed. “Watch him though. I can’t have anyone blow this. We have an opportunity here and I want to be certain that I know where everyone’s loyalties lie. Get him to find out what he can about these other children. Most importantly though is our little Hope Mitchell. She has access to vital information. The kind that could change history. I’ve made promises to others. We have little time. I’ll organize a team on this end to be prepared for the PSI. As usual, Echidna, you’ve done good work. Watch your back. You are indeed indispensable, love.”
“Thank you.”
Kobach hung up the phone and stood. She walked over to the elaborate mahogany bar and poured herself a chilled vodka. There were so many players in this game and the poor child was a mere pawn, but a vital one.
She brought the ice cold drink to her lips. The past came to the forefront of her mind again. Twenty years earlier before the end of The Soviet Empire she’d proudly imprisoned and utilized another pawn in this game of psychic warfare, but that pawn had slipped through her hands and back into the enemy’s. She was very aware of the possibility of that child—now a grown woman—hunting her down and coming back to make her pay. Kobach knew what her former prisoner was c
apable of. Kylie Cain was a foe to be reckoned with, and Kobach rightfully feared the young woman who now worked for the PSI. Sometimes she could almost feel Kylie near and at those times she would shut down all emotions, everything in order to protect herself. The last thing she wanted was for Kylie Cain to get a read on where she was.
Hope Mitchell would be a different story. Once Kobach had her in her possession, she knew that the child would draw Kylie out, and she could kill two birds with one stone, as the Americans liked to say. She would be able to get rid of the enemy she feared, and the agenda of WON would sweep rapidly across the world. Once Kobach got a hold of Hope Mitchell in the next hour she would become a prisoner and tool for World Order Now.
Kobach sipped the vodka, anticipation swelling in the pit of her stomach with the knowledge that it was only a matter of time before she would be the most respected, feared, and powerful human being on Earth.
Chapter Four
The explosion was deafening.
I was being tossed back and landed hard on my back. I cried out. Debris and dust were everywhere and I could no longer see him. A minute ago, he’d been right there. Right in front of me, reaching out for me. Telling me that everything was okay. I heard another man’s voice now. Who was calling me? I recognized it but it wasn’t my dad. I could hear the drone of a helicopter. Where was Dad?
Then I saw him. What was left of him—blood and his...his...oh god, Daddy!” I screamed. “Daddy! No!”
“Kylie, hey Ky. Come on. Wake up. Wake up.”
I felt a hand on my shoulder and the familiar voice of Noah—soothing, comforting. “Come on, you’re okay. Bad dream.”
I wiped what I knew were tears from my eyes and blinked several times. “Yeah. Bad dream.”
“Considering what you were just put through, it’s a no-brainer that you’re a little bit, um, freaked.”
I nodded, agreeing with his assessment, not wanting him to know the truth. I never spoke of my nightmares or what caused them. Only Grant Simms knew the entire truth, and I suspected there was more that he knew about that day when I was only ten and my father was killed right in front of me. But neither one of us cared to open that door. There was still too much there. Too much pain and grief and anguish. I didn’t care to go back there ever—at all. I wished my subconscious would get with that program.