WAR: Opposition: (WAR Book 3)

by Vanessa Kier

Confirming that no rebels were currently in sight, she slipped out of the hole, hung from the beam, and dropped onto the closest speaker. From there she jumped onto one of the generators, then leapt to the ground.

  She raced out the gate.

  To her left were the portable toilets and a mass of rebels by the bridge. Ahead were a few trees lining the edge of the river’s cliff.

  She sprinted right along the wall, toward a gate that jutted out to block people on this path from entering the restricted area.

  A rebel burst out of a gate in the wall a few meters in front of her.

  “Found her!”

  She spun and ran back the way she’d come. Only to nearly collide with her interrogator.

  “Well, well,” he said as he slowed to a walk and stalked toward her. “Look who is trying to escape.” He pulled his knife.

  Kirra backpedaled, then leapt for the wall. Her hands closed over the top bar, but the first rebel yanked her arm. He pulled her into a bear hug with her back to his front, and high enough that her feet didn’t touch the ground. Her fingers scrabbled at his waist and hands, trying to stabilize herself or break his hold.

  Then hours of self-defense training took over. She hooked her right foot behind the rebel’s knee, then drove her left heel up into his groin. The man staggered back and dropped her. She landed with bent knees, then sent a rear kick into the rebel’s knee. Spinning toward him, she followed up with an elbow to the side of his head and a series of punches that drove him into the trees until he stumbled over a root and fell onto his back.

  Kirra bolted toward the gate, but her interrogator leapt into her path. He grinned and advanced toward her, knife at the ready.

  She eased backward and a bit sideways.

  “I will enjoy cutting you into pieces, woman.”

  A brief flicker of memory overlaid Franz’s face onto the rebel. Her muscles seized. Her vision tunneled and memories of her screams echoed in her mind.

  No. Kirra shook her head. Franz has no power here.

  She continued backing up, watching and waiting until finally her interrogator committed by lunging toward her. She blocked his knife hand, twisted her body toward him, and with a few strikes of her elbow and hand gained possession of the knife. He dodged her next blow, grabbed hold of her arm, and yanked. Kirra flowed with the motion, turning toward him and slicing across his arm with the knife. He cried out in pain and pulled his arm back.

  Blood welled from the cut.

  She froze. Bile rose in her throat.

  The man’s furious roar snapped her back to reality. She ducked under his wild swing, drove her shoulder into his gut, then pulled his thighs toward her so he toppled backward.

  She pivoted and bolted away, still holding his knife. Her pocket bulged with the item she’d snagged off the first rebel’s belt. Her fingers were as light as ever.

  Her side cramped and she stumbled at the pain. No. She couldn’t slow down. Not yet.

  A bullet slammed into the ground to her left.

  Kirra jumped onto the fence that separated this section of the path from the section running alongside the restricted area and scrambled up and over. As soon as she landed on the other side, she pulled the grenade she’d stolen out of her pocket, yanked out the pin, and tossed it over the gate. Then she slapped her hands over her ears and bolted for the gate to the car park.

  The ground shook. She stumbled. Her hands fell away from her ears. Behind her, men screamed.

  Ignoring the commotion, she barreled down the path. The wall to her right protected the restricted area, so it had been constructed to prevent anyone from climbing it. With the right equipment and enough time, she could breach it anyway. Since she had neither, she continued running along the path parallel to the wall.

  Her breath sawed in and out of her lungs. Her stomach hurt. The wounds on her hand throbbed.

  Gunfire sounded behind her.

  She pushed past the pain and put every drop of energy she had into running full-tilt.

  Another gate jutted out from the wall ahead of her, marking the end of the restricted area and the beginning of the car park for the performers, vendors, and staff.

  Kirra leapt onto the wall and started climbing. Her right hand cramped three-quarters to the top and she slipped. Hanging by only her left hand, her toes scrabbled to find a foothold. Hurry, hurry, hurry.

  Her toes found purchase. She levered herself to the top. Behind her, the rebels hadn’t yet managed to get past the crater left by the grenade. A quick glance to her right revealed a new group of rebels running along the sister path on the other side of the compound.

  She’d hoped to enter the restricted area and get help from the security team, but its rear entrance was in the middle of the wall separating it from the car park. Even at full speed, she’d never reach the gate before the rebels came into sight.

  She dropped down from the top of the fence. Bending over to reduce her silhouette, she darted behind the nearest vehicle. The rebels burst into view on the other side of the car park and immediately spread out in a search pattern.

  Kirra worked her way stealthily from vehicle to vehicle until she reached the woods. She eased in between the trees, using the deeper shadows there to hide her movements.

  A massive explosion threw her to her knees. When the aftershock passed, she pushed to her feet in time to see the last of the rebels leaving the car park in the direction they’d arrived from. They were probably headed to support their teammates against whoever had just attacked the front of the compound.

  Kirra hurried through the woods, aiming for where her mental map placed the back road. The width of the peninsula soon narrowed, while the distance from the top of the bluff to each branch of the river shortened until it was only a few meters. Finally, the trees gave way to a grassy field that stretched from the river bluff on the left to the bluff on the right.

  Another grove of trees bordered the opposite side of the field.

  To the right of the field, close to the start of the other grove, she spotted Seth.

  Her heart froze. Seth had his hands in the air as the assassin aimed a gun at him.

  “Go ahead, shoot me,” Seth told the assassin. He’d hoped to rescue Kirra first, but if this was the way he had to go out, he would.

  The assassin narrowed his eyes. “You would like that, wouldn’t you? A fast, painless death. But you don’t deserve that. I will make you suffer first, the way you made my brother suffer.” The assassin fired.

  Survival instincts took over and Seth shifted aside at the last moment. The bullet tore along the outside of his upper arm instead of the front of his shoulder. Seth dropped to his knees, but forced himself to stay still instead of rolling to safety. “I don’t know anything about your brother.”

  “Liar. You—”

  Someone tackled Seth and rolled them both into the assassin’s legs, knocking the assassin back.

  Seth caught a glimpse of Dev’s face as the other man kicked the assassin in the head. Then Dev dragged Seth to the edge of the trees.

  “No.” Seth struggled to break free of Dev’s hold. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? You’re supposed to be rescuing Kirra.”

  “My orders say I’m supposed to turn you over to the U.S. government alive and well,” Dev snarled. “Which means no death by assassin.”

  Betrayal gripped Seth by the throat. He drove his elbow into Dev’s sternum and twisted free. “So was all that talk about helping me protect my family bullshit then?”

  “No.” Dev lunged for Seth.

  Seth raised the pistol Dev had given him and shot the other man in the chest. Dev collapsed to his knees. “I’m sorry. I can’t let you take me in.” He fired again. Dev toppled onto his back. Seth grabbed Dev under the shoulders, hauled him to the cliff’s edge, and shoved him over.

  “You bastard!”

  Seth spun around to see Kirra racing toward him. The agony on her face was something he’d hoped never to see. It sliced his heart into pieces.<
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  The assassin rose out of the grass like a specter and grabbed Kirra. He put her in a headlock and shoved his pistol against her temple.

  No! Seth froze. Not Kirra.

  He couldn’t breathe. The edges of his vision went dark.

  “On your knees,” the assassin ordered. “Drop the pistol and cross your hands over your head.”

  Seth obeyed. “Let the woman go.” He could barely force the words out past the choking fear. “I’m the one you want.”

  “Oh, no,” the assassin said. “You’re going to watch me take my time killing her. Just the way I watched my brother slowly die from the bullet you shot into his back. The bullet that severed his spine and left him helpless in a backward little village in Southeast Asia.”

  Ah, fuck. He’d been right about the resemblance. Seth had shot the other man—also a skilled assassin—in the back because it was the only way he could take him down. Since the man had fallen face first into the stream and floated away, Seth had assumed the guy died.

  Nothing he could say would improve the situation, so Seth remained silent. But the knowledge that this was personal explained the man’s odd behavior. The calm of battle settled over Seth. The only way to beat the assassin was to be cool and detached, and hope he could use the man’s emotions against him.

  He studied the assassin and waited for the man’s next move. The assassin had both his hands occupied. If he truly intended to hurt Kirra, Seth bet that the assassin would shift the pistol away from her ear. Maybe aim at her feet.

  He’d be ready to act the second the man so much as twitched.

  He wished he could signal Kirra somehow, but her gaze remained fixed on the point where he’d tossed Dev over the cliff.

  I’m so damn sorry, sweetheart.

  The assassin lowered the pistol an inch. Yeah, he was going for a foot shot. Seth dove forward.

  At the same time, Kirra grabbed the assassin’s wrist and twisted it so that the pistol faced away from her. Seth tackled them both.

  Seth took control of the assassin’s gun hand as Kirra scrambled away.

  Once she was safely out of range, Seth grabbed the assassin in a body hug and rolled them both over the edge of the cliff.

  Kirra snatched up the pistol Seth had dropped. Gunshots rang out.

  “No, damn you! You don’t get to do this to me.” She raced toward the edge of the cliff and peered down at the sandy bank of the river. Directly below her, the assassin lay sprawled across Seth. Neither man was moving.

  Dev’s body lay not far to the right.

  Kirra scrambled over the edge, jumped onto the sand, and ran over to Dev.

  Oh God, he couldn’t be dead. Please, let him be alive. Yes, he was an overbearing jerk half the time, but he was still her big brother. She loved him. If he died because he’d come to help her, she’d never forgive herself.

  She fell to her knees and touched her fingers to the pulse at his throat.

  Dev’s eyes fluttered open.

  “You’re alive!”

  “Kev…lar…vest…” he groaned. “Just had…wind…knocked out…of…me…Jar…rod?”

  “I don’t know.” She raised her head at the unmistakable sound of a helicopter. “I have to hide you.” She grabbed his shoulder, but his hand rose and captured her wrist.

  “I signaled…for help.” He nodded at the phone in his right hand. “Check Jarrod.”

  Pistol in hand, Kirra cautiously approached Seth and the assassin. She kicked the assassin’s foot, but he didn’t twitch. So she kicked the gun out of his hand, then heaved him off of Seth.

  A combat knife protruded from the assassin’s gut. Kirra turned her head away, avoiding looking at the bloody wound.

  The sounds from the helicopter grew louder. She flicked a glance downriver and saw it racing toward them.

  “Kir…ra…” Seth’s eyes fluttered open. Blood foamed out of a hole in his chest.

  Kirra averted her eyes, yanked the bandanna off her hand, and, with a few sideways glances to guide her, managed to position the cloth over the wound. It wasn’t a particularly sanitary solution, but it should hold him until they could get him to a doctor. She quickly ran her hands over the rest of his body to check for other injuries.

  “Sor…ry…” His eyes closed.

  “Don’t you dare die on me, you bastard.” Kirra had to shout over the rotor sounds from the helicopter that had come to a hovering stop a few meters away. “Sorry for what? For shooting my brother? For letting the assassin shoot you?”

  Kirra touched his face, feeling him slipping away. Tears ran down her cheeks. “Sorry for breaking my damn heart?”

  She raised the pistol.

  Seth must have died and gone to heaven. Kirra was crying over him and he heard the unmistakable sound of a Black Hawk helicopter.

  No. That wasn’t right. Kirra wouldn’t be crying. Not in heaven.

  Seth struggled to open his eyes. Kirra knelt over him, a pistol in her hands.

  For a second he thought she was so angry at him that she’d decided to finish the assassin’s work. “Do…it…” he murmured.

  “Shut up, you idiot.”

  Darkness reached out to embrace him. He wanted it to take him. Then debris hit his cheek. Annoyed, Seth slitted open his eyes and watched the Black Hawk touch down lightly on the strip of dirt next to the river. Typical Marcus Jones. No one else had such a light touch.

  Except Seth. But he had to be hallucinating. The pilot couldn’t be Marcus, because…

  Seth couldn’t remember why. Something Dev had said. Or done. Or…

  He lost touch again, only to be roused by a familiar Texan voice issuing from a PA system. “Lower your weapon, ma’am.”

  Seth struggled to raise his lids. Kirra had straddled him and had the pistol aimed at the men in black combat gear exiting the helicopter.

  When Kirra didn’t lower her weapon, Marcus ordered, “Call off your guard dog, Parakeet.”

  If he’d had the strength, he would’ve given Marcus the finger. He hated that damn nickname. But the world was starting to tip sideways. “Kir-ra…love…you…”

  Then at last the darkness swallowed him up.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  “Seth!” Kirra didn’t dare lower the pistol to check his pulse. No matter that the man flying the helicopter seemed to know Seth, she didn’t trust the pilot or the soldiers racing toward her.

  Two men detached from the group and stopped beside Dev. The blond man bent down and helped her brother to his feet. From the way Dev’s mouth curled, she knew he’d made a joke to hide his pain. The man shook his head and rolled his eyes before he braced himself underneath Dev’s arm.

  All right. Maybe these were friends of Dev’s. That didn’t mean they would be friendly to Seth.

  She repositioned her feet so that she straddled Seth’s body and watched the remaining men approach. Two of them lifted the assassin’s body onto a stretcher and carried him to the helicopter. She wasn’t sure if he was dead or just critically injured. And she didn’t really care.

  Three of the soldiers stopped a couple meters in front of her and Seth. Kirra aimed Dev’s pistol at the lead man. “Don’t touch him.” She wasn’t turning Seth over to the authorities if they were going to lock him up or execute him on false charges.

  “Whoa!” The man put his hands out in the “I’m innocent” gesture, while his lips quirked in amusement. “We’re the good guys, ma’am. I’m a medic. I’m not going to hurt Mr. Jarrod. I just want to stabilize him so we can transport him to the hospital.”

  Kirra kept the pistol aimed at him. “You’re with the United States government. How do I know that you’re not going to arrest him?”

  “We’re temporary contractors for the U.S. government. Our mission objectives are to bring the assassin to the Americans to face murder and terrorism charges, and to hand Jarrod over to protective custody. I promise, we’re not here to arrest him.” He glanced pointedly at Seth’s bloody chest. “If you don’t let me plug
that hole, he’s going to die.”

  Kirra couldn’t look directly at the wound without feeling sick, so she eased back, letting the medic have room to work. She kept her gaze on the medic’s face and her pistol aimed at his heart.

  The corner of his mouth rose in amusement, then sobered as Seth gasped for breath. Kirra heard a gurgling sound and the medic cursed. “Stretcher. Now,” he barked as he pulled something out of his pocket and slapped it over the wound.

  Seth’s breathing immediately sounded better.

  The two men who’d carried the assassin away raced up with a stretcher. A dark-haired man with a devilish gleam in his eyes reached them first. Lowering the front of the stretcher, he said, “Co! Dev never said his sister was a warrior lady.” His accent seemed to be a mix of the American South and French.

  She glanced over his shoulder and saw that Dev was watching her with a puzzled look on his face. “That’s because my brother doesn’t know me at all,” she muttered.

  She lowered her pistol as the men loaded Seth onto the stretcher. Then the entire group sprinted toward the helicopter. Kirra reached the door at the same time as Dev.

  Her brother winced as he was helped on board. “I thought you weren’t hurt,” she said.

  “Even with a vest, getting shot hurts like a mother,” the blond man said cheerfully with an accent Kirra thought might also be from the American South. “He’s probably got a couple of cracked ribs.” He gently lowered Dev to the metal floor.

  Kirra had never been inside a helicopter, so she didn’t know if the spartan interior was typical. But the area was bare except for seats along the sides and gear bags on the floor at the rear.

  Everyone except the medic and the unconscious men strapped into a seat. Then the helicopter took off in a cloud of dust.

  "You want help removing the vest?” the blond man asked Dev once they were airborne and the men had removed their harnesses.

  Her brother waved him off, so the blond man went to talk to one of his teammates.

  Since the medic was working on Seth, Kirra unstrapped her harness and knelt in front of Dev. “How about you let me take the vest off?” She had to shout to be heard over the noise of the rotors.