Hard to Kill: a Hard Targets novel

by Wendy Byrne

  Finally, she spotted an excellent mark. She couldn't tell if he was a tourist or not, which probably meant he wasn't, but he fit the other criteria she was looking for.

  Distracted by the ramblings of a teenager who seemed bent on making her very existence a drain on anyone within earshot, the guy might very well be perfect. His daughter—or at least Sabrina hoped she was his daughter rather than a very young girlfriend—had blue hair and more visible piercings than she'd seen in quite a while, even by Greenwich Village standards. The girl whined and pointed into a storefront window with all the theatrics of a six-year-old wanting the newest shiny new toy. Dad nodded and feigned interest as he tried to encourage the girl to move on.

  Sabrina moved next to the couple, gazing at the display. It took her less than a second to understand the reason behind the terrified look in the dad's eyes.

  The window display held an array of clothes bordering on obscene. Sprinkles of bright satin colors of fuchsia and purple were mixed with black satin and lace attached to dresses that had an erotically Gothic twist. Deep, plunging necklines and thigh-high slits bordered on the perverse in a combination that could only be described as the No-Daughter-of-Mine-Will-Ever-Wear-That Display.

  She almost felt a little bad at the idea of lifting his wallet. The guy had more than enough on his plate with a rebellious teen, but right now she didn't have a choice but to follow through with her plan. Nerves skittered along the surface as she flexed her fingers to relieve the building tension.

  Listening to their one-sided conversation, conducted in French, Sabrina tsked and uttered a "Mon Dieu" in support of dad even while she slipped her fingers inside his pocket to relieve him of his wallet.

  She moved away discreetly. After turning the corner, she flipped open the wallet, snatched the money she would need, and tossed the Italian leather to the cobblestone sidewalk, where hopefully it would be found and returned.

  She stuffed the euros inside her pocket. While it wasn't much, it was enough for until she could hook up with Antonio, who could score her a fake passport and loan her some money.

  Even though it was a little indulgent, she bought a pair of tennis shoes to replace the too-big-for-her boots Kane had confiscated. As if her stomach knew she had some money, it began to rumble. She purchased some food at a local pub and gobbled it down. As she paid the man behind the bar, she contemplated her next step—finding a car to hotwire.

  Eyeing the phone in the corner, she walked over and dialed Antonio. He lived close, with a residence in Northern Italy, and he had enough money and firepower to set her up for what she needed to do.

  Damn it. No answer.

  Didn't people carry their cell phones with them all the time? She left a message, but without a number at which to reach her, she'd have to keep trying.

  As she hung up the phone, she became more aware of the quiet surrounding her. It took her a few seconds to realize the hum of conversation had dissipated, with only occasional whispers breaking through the silence.

  When she glanced around, all eyes were riveted on her. They held some kind of paper in her their hands and were pointing to it, then looking at her. Uh oh. This was going to get ugly.

  "That's her, isn't it?" one of them shouted from the back as they all started to converge.

  She eased outside with as much finesse as she could muster, given that half the local population seemed to be nipping at her heels. Armed with nothing but their bodies and a will to subdue her, she had a fighting chance.

  Certainly she could outrun a bunch of middle-aged men going soft in the middle. She hit the street desperate for an escape.

  But it was hard to think when a mob of angry Austrians was in hot pursuit. Luckily she spotted a pick-up truck idling outside a store with the owner nowhere in sight. Backed into a corner, she couldn't get picky. It was a crime of opportunity.

  With only a vague sense of where she needed to go except as far away from the crowd as possible, she let out the clutch and pressed the gas pedal to the floor. The old truck swerved on the uneven pavement until she was able to regain control.

  A shot of adrenaline gave her the boost she needed until she glanced at the gas gauge. An eighth of a tank? She banged on the dashboard. "Are you frickin' kidding me?"

  She blew out a breath and reined in her fear. Calm down. This is doable. Even with that miniscule amount of gas, she should be able to get far enough away to work on a Plan B.

  Feeling much more calm, she glanced into the rearview mirror. Instead of reassurance, her pulse rate shot through the roof when she spotted a pick-up filled to the brim with men carrying rifles. The locals must have called in reinforcements with guns. But why?

  She glanced at the passenger seat and spotted a piece of paper. A picture of her with the caption that read Wanted for Murder, Reward Offered. With a sinking sensation in her gut, she glanced at the gas gauge as it slid closer to the E.

  Could this whole thing get any worse?

  CHAPTER SIX

  Sabrina swore as the truck rolled to a stop in the grass. She threw open the door and sprinted to a dilapidated farmhouse about a hundred yards away and hoped she could get there before bullets started to fly.

  Her lungs pounded against her chest while she struggled to catch her breath. A bullet ricocheted off the wood behind her, splintering the edge into tiny fragments. She peeked through one of the many holes in the wooden structure and spotted a guy creeping toward her.

  These were innocents caught up in the thirst for making a quick buck. They were pawns in Marco's game. She didn't want to hurt them. Instead she aimed for a tree branch overhead to scare the guy back while she tried to figure a way out. As she'd expected, he crawled back to the cover of trees. She had no doubt the group was strategizing about how to take her down.

  "Hey," one of them yelled. Then he said in broken English, "We don't hurt you."

  A sound over her shoulder grabbed her attention.

  She turned, her gun pointed behind her. "Need some help, Ms. Shaw?" Kane whispered as he scooted under a hole in the boards along the back, carrying an Uzi.

  Even while she wasn't thrilled at his appearance, and the fact he'd somehow figured out her name, his timing was impeccable. "I'm doing fine on my own. But you can leave that Uzi and the ammunition and we'll call it even."

  "I wasn't aware I owed you anything," he whispered, a slow, easy smile on his face as he sidled up next to her and shot off a round into the trees. He looked cool, calm, and rational. But then again, he did carry with him enough ammo to destroy an army. She'd be cocky too if she were carrying that kind of firepower.

  "Not telling me about the price on my head was an oversight, I presume?"

  "I tried to warn you, but you were too busy abandoning a wounded man."

  Sabrina clucked and rolled her eyes. "I work alone."

  "You've made that clear on multiple occasions so that even a dumb-as-a-rock FBI agent could understand."

  She eyed her target and shot a foot over his head to drive them back. "I've gotta commend you on your firepower. Impressive."

  He raised his eyebrows. "There are some perks working for a bureaucracy." He glanced through a hole in the wood. "As far as I can tell, there's about ten or fifteen of them."

  "Not bad odds if they're as unskilled as they appear." Sabrina shrugged, easing off a round into the trees. "But they've come close a couple of times." She pointed toward the wall behind her, which had a few embedded rounds.

  He examined the wood, fingering the splinters and fragments. "Kindergartners with guns, if you ask me. That's the problem with these Wanted Dead or Alive scenarios. You get every two-bit loser anxious to score easy cash. I imagine earning a couple thousand euros by doing a little target practice sounds easy."

  "Okay, you're the big bad FBI guy, how do we get out of this?"

  "We don't want to hurt anybody. Let's spray the trees with bullets so we can slip away into my waiting car."

  "A car full of gas?" When he nodded, she smil
ed as relief shimmied through. "I better cover for you. You'll need extra time with that bum leg?"

  "I'll do okay."

  "You're hobbling around like my ninety-year-old grandma. Well, if I had a ninety-year-old grandma."

  His brow furrowed as a hint of a smile turned up his lips. "I could still beat you in a race."

  "I wouldn't be too sure about that. You didn't do so well last time."

  "That's because I let you get away."

  She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right." She encouraged him to come closer by curling her fingers. "Let me see. Is it sprained?"

  "Twisted it during that last takedown in the tunnel. If you had stuck around, you would have known that."

  "Pull up your pants." She rubbed her fingers together. "I'd be much better with my needles, but they're gone. Along with my cell phone, my money, and my luggage."

  "Needles? What the hell are you talking about?" He glanced through a hole and let off a couple of rounds before he backed away.

  "I know acupuncture. At least enough to ease some of the discomfort. I prefer using my needles, but in a pinch, I can ease it with acupressure as well." She shook her head and smiled. Despite everything going on outside, with him shooting off a round or two every thirty seconds or so, this whole thing felt like a slice of normalcy. "Now stop being such a baby."

  She held the pressure points and counted. Little by little she felt the relaxation of the muscles underlying the injury. His injury wasn't bad, but it was enough to slow them both down.

  "Feels a little better."

  "Hate to say I told you so, but this gal has skills." She glanced outside. "There's no time like the present to do a little disappearing act."

  Letting loose a barrage of bullets, they covered the area, keeping it up for several rounds. Taking short breaks in between kept the men outside off balance, never quite knowing when the shooting would start up again.

  "You didn't think you'd get far in that pick-up, did you?"

  "I was in a jam. I opted for what was handy."

  He wiggled his eyebrows up and down. "Good thing I have connections. The car is on the other side of that set of trees. Next break, we make our move."

  With one last explosive round, they set off into the trees behind them with her in the lead, grasping his hand to pull him along. A few moments later, she spotted the old Volvo ready and waiting.

  Despite a sincere desire to the contrary, she'd hooked herself up with a partner.

  * * *

  Sabrina settled against the front seat, feeling a sense of relief wash over. Although she knew this respite was short-lived, it gave her the opportunity to catch her breath.

  "How did you find me?" Now that the dust settled, she was curious. It wasn't coincidence.

  "I listened for the bullets, and followed the sound to trouble."

  She gave him her best "oh pleeeez" look.

  "I got into town right after you and heard you'd stolen a pick-up."

  She shook her head and urged him on with her fingers. "That doesn't explain how you found me. I'm a good ten miles out of town."

  "I put a tracking device in the clothes I gave you." He had the good grace to look sheepish. "I figured there was a strong chance you'd book it if we got out of there alive, and being proactive is what I do best."

  What was wrong with her? As many tracking devices as she'd put on others over the years, she didn't even consider the possibility Kane had done the same thing to her. Shame on her. Petrovich had taught her better. Patting down her pants, she squirmed around in the seat to touch at every possible hiding place: the seams, the pockets, the waistband. When she found nothing, she stripped off her shirt and finally found the receiver—smaller and thinner than one of her acupuncture needles, neatly tucked into the band of her shirt. She ripped at the seam and wiggled it out of its hiding spot before flicking it out the window.

  A smile etched up the corners of his lips. "Don't give me the evil eye. I told you about it, didn't I?"

  "I would have figured it out sooner or later." As soon as he said "FBI" and let her get away so easily she should have known he had an ace in the hole.

  He snorted. "It wouldn't have taken you too much longer, which is why I confessed."

  She put back on the shirt and brought up her legs so that she sat cross-legged on the front seat. "Tell me, are you the good brother or the bad brother?" she asked, changing the subject away from her own blunder.

  "I don't have a brother. Only a sister," Kane remarked while a hint of confusion marred his face. He shifted into third and stared at her across the front seat. Their respective Uzis were placed between them for easy access.

  "Cain and Abel, as in the Bible. I'm sure you were named after the evil one."

  He shook his head, but a small smile played at he corner of his lips. "I saved your butt, didn't I? That wasn't so evil."

  "Contrary to your belief, I was doing fine. My butt didn't need saving."

  "If you call almost out of bullets, surrounded by fifty guys wanting to kill you, and being miles from anywhere without transportation doing fine, then yeah. You were." He nodded, glancing over in her direction. "I'll leave you to your delusions."

  She sighed and fought the urge to smile. The last thing she wanted was for him to believe his charm was working. "For the record, I believe you said it was only fifteen guys, and I still had my knife." She tapped at the holder strapped to her thigh. "Evil twin," she added.

  "I hate to disappoint you, but Kane is a family name. Spelled K-A-N-E as opposed to the biblical version, you know, C-A-I-N."

  "Well, I'm not much on Bible reading."

  "That makes two of us."

  For a second or two she contemplated what he meant by that. Not interested in delving too deep, she opted for a more impersonal question.

  "You must have made nice with your bosses to score this ammo."

  "Not so much, but I still have some friends."

  She tapped her kneecap with her finger. "Which reminds me, why isn't there a price on your head? After all the run-ins we had with guards in the tunnels, they've got to know you're helping me."

  He shrugged. "Many of the guys we ran into don't know me. Besides, the car I stole from Marco I drove into the lake. If they found it, they might assume I'm dead. They're a lazy lot so probably didn't bother to look for a body."

  "Too bad you couldn't come up with an equally brilliant plan for my untimely demise." She paused. "Speaking of which, since I've got to get back inside to get that thumb drive, you can leave me with a few weapons once we're in the clear and I'll sneak back in." She brought the Uzi into the palm of her hand. "As for now, I'm prepared."

  "This isn't Gunfight at the OK Corral." He raised his eyebrows. "Did you watch too many westerns when you were a kid? Is that the problem?"

  "Very funny."

  "I was about to say I've rigged the back seat so it pulls down. I suggest you hide in the trunk." He stopped to grace her with a dimpled smile before he continued, "And yes, you should bring your new toy as well as a couple of rounds of ammo. I don't think you'll need either because I'm going to be a"—he placed a baseball cap backwards on his head—"student on holiday." He spoke the words in French.

  "I'm impressed. Let me crawl into my cave. Give me a signal if you want me to come out guns blazing." Sabrina drew in a breath as she yanked up the seat, cloaking her in darkness. Not wanting to appear too chicken, she neglected to tell him how pervasive her claustrophobia could be at times. All those times she'd be hiding in a cave while her brothers went out to gather what food they could had been a lingering memory she'd prefer to forget. She drew in a few calming breaths and centered herself.

  "Believe me, you'll be the first to know," he hollered.

  * * *

  As much as he wanted to project confidence, Kane didn't have a whole lot of faith. He knew he'd never be able to talk her out of going back to Marco's place to retrieve the records, but convincing her to take a more planned approach would be the difficult p
art. But for right now, at least he'd be there when she confronted Marco. If he did have financial information about Trinity's clients on it, it would be one step closer to Trinity and making sure no more Caitlyns ever went missing at his hand.

  Once she'd closed the back seat, he relaxed a little. That was until he spotted the roadblock up ahead.

  Despite the rigidity of his military posture, he slumped his shoulders and tried to appear unassuming before he lowered the window. "Are you guys looking for somebody?" He spoke the words in French rather than German.

  "We're looking for a woman," one of the men said.

  "You and me both." Kane laughed. "It's been a while since I've seen some action."

  "Then take my advice and don't get married. You'll never get laid again." One of the men spoke as the others snickered and swapped insults back and forth in German.

  The man in charge quieted them all with a raised hand. "The woman we're looking for is armed and dangerous and already killed a man. She wounded another when a group tried to take her by force."

  "What does the woman look like?"

  "Red hair, small but strong. We heard she killed the guy with her bare hands."

  "She sounds like a total badass. What should I do if I see her?"

  "Don't approach. Call the police," the officer in charge said. "There's another road block a little further down the road."

  "And don't pick up any strange women," one of the men called.

  "No problem. Thanks for the warning. I'll be on the lookout."

  He wasn't surprised when he heard the creak of the back seat coming down. "Stay down for a few more minutes. They're still watching the car."

  "How much longer?" She opened up the seat, but stayed prone. "Did I mention I'm a wee bit claustrophobic?"

  He raised his eyebrow and smiled but didn't dare comment. "You need to stay right where you are for a while."

  "Can I leave the seat down at least?"

  He turned to see her hovering near the opening, as if she needed to suck in fresh air. It was the first time he'd seen even a speck of vulnerability, and he couldn't help but wonder about her demons. "I'll let you know when we're close to the next checkpoint." He barely finished saying the words when he saw a group of men in a line across the road. "Close it up. Now. I think it's some of Marco's guys," he barked as the sense of trouble raced down his arms, contracting his muscles.