by Vanessa Kier
Seth swerved the vehicle off the road and into a patch of Guinea grass.
The sudden motion threw Kirra back into her seat. As she righted herself, Seth shut off the engine, then picked up her arm.
“Jesus, Kirra.” He traced one of the scars gently and the scratch of his rough skin sent shivers down her spine. “What happened?”
There wasn’t enough air in the vehicle. She pulled her arm away, shoved open the door, and jumped out.
“Kirra?”
She hurried into the head-high grass until she couldn’t see Seth or the vehicle. Then she stopped and visualized each note of the first song she’d learned on the guitar as it would appear on the printed page. As the notes took shape in her mind, her breath slowly deepened. She became fully aware of the sunlight, the breeze stirring the grass, and the call of unfamiliar birds. Shoving her hand into her pocket, she used the pressure of the guitar pick against her right hand to ground her, and returned to the vehicle.
Seth was leaning back against the closed passenger door. When he spotted her, he stood up and gave her a worried frown. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to set you off.”
She managed the ghost of a smile. “It’s my fault for showing you my scars.”
“You don’t have to explain anything to me, Kirra.”
It was tempting to climb into the vehicle and tell him to keep driving. She’d only told the full story, at least those parts she remembered, to the police and her therapist. Most people only got the short version.
Yet instinct told her that of all people, Seth would understand. “I want you to know.”
His eyes searched hers.
She tightened her grip on her guitar pick. Delaying would only make it harder to start, giving dread time to build up. “To fully understand what happened, I need to explain a little bit about my childhood.” She moved away from Seth to stand facing the wall of grass.
“My parents were teachers and social activists. They were prominent in the local anti-apartheid movement and often opened their home up to strangers who were escaping the violence. They were very generous people who were passionately committed to peace and freedom.”
Except they’d never figured out that children sometimes needed guidance and boundaries. “They had three children. My brother, Dev, followed by me and my twin, Kyle.” Her throat tightened. Tears stung her eyes.
“Kyle was my heart. My soul. My confidant. He was the only one who understood me. He was the only one who could rein me in when I got too wild.” She crossed her arms over her chest to hold the ache in. “My parents never knew how to handle me and pretty much left me alone except for the occasional lecture on responsibility and respect for the rules.”
Seth made a sound as if he’d bitten back a comment.
“Kyle and his girlfriend were hit head-on by a drunk driver when we were seventeen. His girlfriend was eighteen and behind the wheel.” Kirra inhaled sharply, the pain as sharp now as it had been nine years ago. “They were killed instantly.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I can’t begin to describe the pain. The aching, yawning emptiness inside me. And the anger that he’d been taken from me.” She tightened her arms over her chest. “I had no one to hold on to. No one to comfort me, because Kyle was gone and that had always been his role.”
“What about your parents?” The protective concern in Seth’s voice was so unexpected, and so welcome, it helped anchor her to the present.
“My parents had lost their baby,” Kirra said. “Their precious son who had been all set to join them in their ongoing crusade for social justice.” She shook her head. “They were too wrapped up in their own grief to realize how badly I was hurting. Or to realize how often they would glance at me as they said how they wished they had him back. I—”
She bit her lip, then whispered. “I knew they wished I’d died in his place.”
“No. I’m sure that wasn’t true.”
“Yeah, it was. They’d always made it clear that I was a huge disappointment to them. That Kyle was the perfect one. If I hadn’t loved him so much, I would have hated him for taking away our parents’ love.”
“And your other brother?” Seth growled right behind her. “What about him?”
As Seth’s arms came around her waist, Kirra startled. She took a step forward, intending to break away. But his hold was so loose, so gentle, and so warm that she hesitantly backed up until her back pressed against his chest. The feel of his solid body behind her served as another anchor. In a moment she was going to need all the anchors she could get.
“Dev took leave from the military, but he’d never known what to do with me. I’d always been the emotional child, the one prone to tantrums.” She shrugged. “Dev doesn’t deal well with emotions. He gave me a few hugs, said how sorry he was, then he returned to saving the world.”
“He should have stayed with you. Or at the very least, forced your parents to wake up and remember that they had a daughter who needed them.”
She liked the feel of Seth’s cheek against her hair. Liked the way his voice vibrated in outrage on her behalf. It reminded her that she’d survived. That her body and spirit were strong again. She hoped he wouldn’t step away as she dove deeper into the story.
“In an attempt to drown my grief and loneliness, I fell in with a bad crowd at school. I barely graduated because I was too busy partying, often stumbling home drunk just hours before I had to leave for school.”
“Understandable,” Seth murmured.
“I had been accepted into university, but after I finished secondary school, my boyfriend Franz suggested that we head to Cape Town because there was lots of money to be had there for little work. I didn’t care where we went, I just didn’t want to be alone.”
She’d long ago forgiven that lost, scared girl for hooking up with Franz. But she would never forgive Franz for taking advantage of her. “For those first few months we didn’t have much money. Remember that comment I made about urine and vomit? That’s because more times than I care to remember I woke up on a stained mattress in some filthy, abandoned building. Usually we’d be in the middle of a group of his friends who’d also passed out.” Kirra had never liked his friends, but had been too afraid of Franz dumping her and leaving her alone to tell him how she felt.
Not that it would have made a difference.
“It turned out that Franz didn’t have any job skills except persuasion and thieving. So he taught me how to pick pockets and break into cars and other ways to steal items that we could sell to buy food. Still, sometimes we had nowhere else to sleep but the beach or the park.”
“Dangerous,” Seth commented.
“I know. We quickly learned how to run from the predators.”
“Did you ever get picked up by the police?”
“Yeah. Once. For vagrancy. We spent the night in jail, and that was it.” She shrugged. “I had a couple of close calls when I was learning how to pickpocket, but I never got caught.”
She watched as the wind riffled through the grasses, causing the tall strands to reach toward her like fingers. Shuddering, she eased sideways out of Seth’s arms, then backed away.
“One day we attempted to rob a tourist bungalow and found a theft already in progress. Long story short, the other thieves belonged to a gang of highly-trained, well-organized thieves. After a few trials, Franz and I were allowed in. He tried to get his other friends in, but only two of them made the cut.
“Under the tutelage of the older members of the gang, particularly their leader, I thrived. The skills they taught me slowly brought me out of my grief. Before long I graduated out of the pickpocketing and petty thievery class and into the big leagues of jewels and collectibles.”
Seth turned her to face him. “Wait. You were a jewel thief?” His brows rose up near his hairline.
The corner of her lips lifted slightly at his disbelief. “Yes. A good one, too. I loved pitting my wits against the high and mighty. The other thieves came to respect m
e and treated me as an equal. Some of them even began to look up to me and to come to me for advice. I felt as if I’d finally found a place where I belonged. Plus, with the money I made I was able to move into a flat of my own.” She’d finally received the validation she’d been searching for. She’d finally felt as if she had value.
“And Franz?”
She closed her eyes a moment. “We drifted apart. I moved up the ranks faster than him and I think he was jealous. I broke up with him, but he was one of those silver-tongued devils who managed to turn my words around. More often than I care to admit, he ended up spending the night on my sofa.”
“So what went wrong?”
Kirra turned so once again her back was to Seth’s front. She wouldn’t be able to continue if she saw his face. To prepare herself for what was coming, she filled her mind with musical notes. “One night Franz came to me and asked for a favor. He’d made a deal outside of the gang’s usual job allocation but couldn’t pull the heist off without me. It wasn’t unheard of for people to freelance, so I didn’t think anything of it. After weeks of planning and intelligence gathering, the night of the heist arrived. Our target was a heavily fortified mansion. My job was to remove a small ancient statue.” Her whole body tensed instinctively, even though she still didn’t remember most of what happened.
Focus on the music. The music. The music.
“Unfortunately, on my way out, one of the guards came charging out of the guardhouse, firing his weapon. Franz was supposed to have knocked him out and tied him up. I fled, but I got shot in the arm.”
Seth squeezed her and she leaned into his embrace. “It’s weird. I hardly noticed the pain, yet suddenly my arm didn’t work right. I leapt onto the wall and hauled myself up. At the top, I lost my grip on the bag holding the statue. It fell back onto the lawn. I jumped down and ran away.”
She felt Seth go very still behind her. “Asshole boyfriend took it out on you?”
“Yes.” She gripped the guitar pick painfully hard and focused on the scratch of the fabric of her pocket against the skin at the back of her hand. While she watched the wind ruffle the grass, she repeated silently, “I am safe. I am in control.”
Still, all the moisture in her mouth had dried up and she had trouble forcing out the next words. “We met up at an old, abandoned warehouse. Music blasted from a party in the other room. When Franz discovered that I’d lost his package, he went ballistic. He’d been trying to move into a drug organization. The theft had been his initiation fee and he told me that the house I’d broken into belonged to a rival drug leader. Franz was terrified that because of my failure he would be tortured and killed by whichever drug lord found him first. He said that the only way to protect himself was to offer them my dead body.” Her voice cracked. “Then he hit me hard enough to drive me to my knees.”
Seth arms tightened on her.
“I don’t actually remember the rest of the attack, except in occasional flashbacks and nightmares. What I know is from witnesses. A late partygoer saw Franz and me fighting. Reported that to Franz’s buddies.” Her breath came in short, fast bursts. “His friends came running, but not to help. One of them pinned my wrists to the floor over my head while Franz and the others vented their anger on me.”
Her vision tunneled. She focused on each curve of the musical notes in her head, imagining them crisp against the white sheet music until the darkness receded.
“That’s why you can’t stand pressure against your wrists.”
“Right.” Pain exploded behind her eyes, making her gasp.
“Kirra?”
“Sorry. Headache. I get them sometimes when I try to access memories of the attack.”
“Then don’t continue.”
“No. I need to finish this. I need to be strong.” Months of practice helped her tune back in to the song in her head, aided by the feel of the guitar pick between her fingers. “I ended up with over three hundred knife wounds, seventeen broken bones, and a ruptured spleen. Plus a variety of other internal injuries, including intracranial bleeding from a blow to the head.”
The vibrations of Seth’s anger pulsed against her back. “Not to mention the gunshot wound.”
“Yeah.”
“Didn’t anyone from the party try to stop them?”
Kirra closed her eyes and swallowed. “Yes. One of them also ended up in hospital. The other died. After that, those who objected, fled.” She shivered.
“Were you raped?”
“No.”
Seth breathed out in relief.
“I have panic attacks if a situation reminds me of the attack. Blood and darkness are my primary triggers. When you pulled me into the garage, I fought you because it was dark. I remembered Franz dragging me into a dark closet. Telling me to die before he slammed the door shut.”
“I hope that bastard got the electric chair.”
“No. But he’s in prison. That’s good enough for me.”
“God, Kirra.” Seth’s voice was barely recognizable through the rough emotion that turned his words into a growl. “How did you get out of there?”
“An anonymous tip to the police. Franz and his friends didn’t make it far before they were caught. The police found me. Put me in an ambulance. I…died…a few times on the way to hospital. Then once more on the operating table.”
Seth let out a pained sound.
“I spent three days in a coma.” Her legs trembled and her head felt ready to split open. And she was cold all the way into her bones. “I’m feeling kind of shaky.”
Without a word Seth scooped her into his arms and carried her over to the passenger seat. He set her down, then pulled a lightweight bush jacket out of his backpack. He wrapped the jacket around her before handing her a bottle of water.
Kirra drank the entire bottle, then leaned back against the seat. The jacket smelled slightly of Seth and she held it up to her nose to block the lingering stench of cigarettes that reminded her of that warehouse. Closing her eyes, she slowed her musical visualization and matched the new pace with her fingering.
“Here.”
Seth’s voice startled her out of a light doze. She blinked open her eyes and stared blearily at the foil-wrapped bar he held out to her.
“I was saving this for a surprise, but I think you need it now,” he murmured.
“Chocolate? You have chocolate?” Tears filled her eyes.
“It’s all yours.” He placed the precious candy bar in her hand and closed her fingers over it. Then he placed a kiss on her knuckles. “You’re incredibly brave and strong, Kirra. What you went through makes you part of that rare breed of survivors. And I promise you this, not only will I keep you safe, but I’ll never hurt you.”
She gave him a watery smile. “See. I knew I’d win this argument.”
He stared at her in utter confusion.
“Don’t you remember? I flashed my scars at you because you were trying to convince me how bad you are.” She touched his chest, over his heart. “But no matter what you’ve done, you’re still a good man in here, where it matters.”
Seth’s eyes widened in surprise. He opened his mouth, no doubt to protest.
“I’m wiped out,” she murmured, too tired to argue with him. “Is it okay if I lie down in the back while you drive?”
He nodded. She refused his offered hand and slid out of her seat on her own, needing to feel in control. Then she shuffled to the cargo compartment and climbed in.
She fell asleep with musical notes behind her eyes and the candy bar clutched to her chest.
U.S. Military Base
The Greater Niger Republic
West Africa
Wil studied the recent additions to his notes. Special Agent Walton had been thrilled when Wil sent over the photo of the assassin. So grateful that she’d shared the man’s identity with Wil. But beyond saying that the presence of the assassin was relevant to her investigation, the special agent refused to say anything else.
No matter. Wil was good
at reading between the lines. Walton knew, or strongly suspected, who’d sent the assassin after Jarrod. Which furthered Wil’s belief that Jarrod was wanted as a witness to the attack in Southeast Asia.
Why Jarrod hadn’t contacted the authorities at the time of the attack, Wil didn’t know. But for now, as long as Jarrod continued to protect Dev’s sister, Wil was ready to give the man the benefit of the doubt.
Wil’s computer dinged with an incoming encrypted email.
He opened it up, then raised his brows. His team had now been authorized not only to bring in Jarrod, but the assassin, Haig, as well. Haig was a private operator suspected in the deaths of several key allies of the U.S. in Southeast Asia.
Fine. Great. Wil had no issue with the assignment. Except that he didn’t have the manpower to carry it out. All of WAR’s teams were currently busy on other missions, and Wil’s guys were at a critical stage of the upgrades that prevented them from leaving base.
Which left the job to Dev.
Unacceptable. This required a team, not one guy.
Wil picked up his secure satellite phone and sent off a text request for Rio to call him. Maybe Rio could spin the situation to Morenga by pointing out that the assassin was a threat to the diamonds, thus justifying Morenga sending men to take Haig down. As long as the U.S. wanted the assassin alive, Wil trusted Rio to make certain that the assassin stayed out of Morenga’s hands and was eventually handed over to U.S. custody.
Wil gave a faint smile. He was well aware that Morenga had been using WAR to rid himself of rivals within the rebellion. It would serve Morenga right to be used right back.
Chapter Fifteen
The Republic of the Volta
West Africa
Jesus H. Christ.
Seth had suspected that Kirra had another side to her, but he’d never expected to hear such a violent story. His anger simmered and he fought against the urge to call up his mercenary friends and tell them to make certain Franz never made it out of prison alive.