Ky (In the Company of Snipers Book 13)

by Irish Winters

  She swallowed hard. “Right. I get it. I know how it sounds, but on my mother’s grave, I didn’t notice the wire taped to my body until you told me to go check myself. I’m not lying, Ky. I’m wired, and I did have that spider-thing under my scalp, but I don’t know how it got there, either. My second sight’s been erratic since Hawaii, and, umm...” She paused, wishing she sounded less like a Tuesday-night TV drama.

  “We don’t have time for this. Damn, Tate’s already taken the tent down. The wire comes out as soon as we camp again,” he said with conviction. “You hear me?”

  “Okay, sure.” That sounded good in a scary, who’s-going-to-be-operating-on-me-now kind of way. The wire didn’t scare her, but that oblong lump deep inside her groin certainly did. God, some maniac could’ve planted a bomb in her. How would she know that he hadn’t? Whatever it was, she wanted it gone.

  “If we’re not defending an impossible position by then,” Tate cut in, the tent rolled and under his arm. “If she’s right, and she’s really seeing things, Zaroyin’s already got his goons on our trail. We need to move.”

  She bit her lip rather than plead for credibility. I am right. Six more drones are coming for me. Stop talking already. Let’s go!

  Ky nodded, his stare probing for what Eden didn’t know. A crystal blue aura glowed around him, calming her. Tate’s aura had faded to more gray than blue, his doubt apparent. But Ky believed her. She opened her mouth to accept responsibility for placing them in harm’s way.

  “Shut up,” Ky snapped before she could get a word out. “Don’t even think it.”

  “Think what? I didn’t say anything.” Not verbally. I just thought it. How did he know she meant to tell them to leave her behind?

  Ky nodded his chin at her, challenging. “Yeah, right. You were going to tell me to beat it, that you could take care of yourself out here, weren’t you?”

  Gulp. How’s he doing that? “Umm, yeah.”

  “Not going to happen, Agent Stark. Do you at least know how to shoot?”

  She bobbed her head on her way to disappointing him again. “Yes, I’m a dead-eye with paper targets that don’t move. Preferably the kind with big, round circles.”

  “Jesus H. Christ.” He turned into the dark and ran a hand over his head before he faced her again, a definite twinkle in his eye. “What are you carrying? You do have a real gun, don’t you? One that shoots bullets?”

  The nerve of the sarcastic guy! “Glock 42, .380 auto,”’ she answered proudly, needing him to know she was not completely defenseless.

  “Single stack or double?”

  The jerk. Who’d he think she was, testing her like that? A total idiot? She set him straight. “It doesn’t come in a double, Agent Winchester.” And you darned well know it.

  He rolled his eyes. Okay, so her weapon of choice was still the smallest subcompact pistol Glock had ever produced. Get over it. It fit snugly in her hand, and she liked it.

  “You’ve never used it on anyone though, have you? You’ve never killed a guy?”

  He certainly got right to the point. What could she say? “I would if I had to.” I think.

  Ky shot Tate a raised eyebrow. “Looks like it’s all on us, buddy. Stay sharp.”

  Tate grunted, and Eden wasn’t sure if that was a positive sign or not. His primary language seemed to be comprised of grunts of all sizes when she was around. She couldn’t wrap her brain around Ky’s uncanny ability to read her, though. What was that about?

  His gaze scrolled to the ax handle sticking out of the bag on her shoulder. “What do you have there?”

  “An ax.” It seemed a good idea at the time. “We might need it.”

  He glowered at her. “Give it up. It’s too big for you.”

  She twisted to her side, intent on doing her share of the heavy lifting. Whatever they could do, she could do, too. “No, it’s okay. I can carry it.”

  Ky brooked no argument, just relieved her of the ax. Handing it to Tate, he shook his head. “What am I going to do with you?”

  She squared her chin and resettled her gear, insulted he’d decided she couldn’t carry her own weight. “You’re going to shut up and start walking, that’s what you’re going to do.”

  A smile shifted over his face before he stepped out and took point. She followed while Tate assumed the rear position.

  Tate was right. The weak early morning sunlight dimmed when snow commenced falling. The world hushed. Wherever Ky led, she stayed close, her head down, following in his tracks with Tate on her heels. Only the steady crunch of boots through the snow marred the silence.

  Eden projected her second sight to the east, needing a better sense of the six men headed in her direction. Sure enough, they’d altered course to intersect with her new projected path. She threw her focus to the south, striving to see how many more stalked her from that direction. Nothing. Just the two. Just the eerie sensation that more of Zaroyin’s game pieces were in motion. Had he gotten that good? Had he improved the cybernetic implants enough that she could no longer detect his newest drones?

  She alerted Ky. “I still can’t see for certain how many are coming up from Thunder Bay, but the six from the east changed direction. They mean to intercept me.”

  “Us, Eden. Not just you. Tate, ETA to our stone fortress?” he stated clearly without turning around.

  “Another hour at this rate,” Tate grumbled.

  Eden took his surly answer for a hint and walked faster, nearly tripping on Ky’s boot heels. She was a burden and a possible threat to everyone with that device implanted in her body. If it was a GPS-locating device, Zaroyin’s men wouldn’t have any trouble catching up with her, but how had she not seen it until Ky told her to look for it? It made no sense. The wire wasn’t even beneath her skin, not until it sank into the crease of her thigh. She should’ve at least noticed the tape when she’d showered the day she left Alaska.

  That was what worried her. That device in her groin had been inserted orthoscopically, in the proximity of her femoral artery. Or in it. She couldn’t tell. She’d been so flustered when she found it. And angry. That mad man had violated her, but she had no idea when he’d done it. Ky had to be right. Maybe she’d been mind-controlled this whole time. Maybe that was why she’d fallen for Charlie Sweets and his fatherly act.

  Zaroyin seemed one step ahead. How long could that spider thing have been inside of her body? What had it been doing there? Digging into her skull to get down to her brain? Was that how he created his drones? Did he transmit commands over some kind of electrical stimulus through a neuropath? Was that what those eight spider legs really were—conductors? Transmitters? Or worse, some kind of det cord? Was she carrying an internal explosive that made her a walking bomb? Why?

  She cringed, instantly walking more carefully to not rub or disturb that thing in her groin. The notion that she’d been manipulated like a puppet on a tinsel string irked the heck out of her, but that wasn’t the worst of it. A full-on body shiver struck her hard. Had Zaroyin purposefully driven her into the darkest forests of Canada for a reason? Did he want her in this exact spot at this exact time?

  She could barely breathe at the notion of that mad man in control of so many aspects of her life, but it didn’t seem likely Zaroyin would’ve done his own dirty work. Eden scanned through each day since she’d first seen him, searching for a likely suspect, someone who would’ve aided and abetted, but all she could come up with were FBI agents, men and women she’d trusted. They couldn’t all have been on his payroll. It was too much.

  But someone had to have helped him. Eden did what she usually did with insurmountable problems. She delegated them to her brain and let it do its subconscious thing while she focused on keeping up with Ky and surviving her nagging migraine.

  The terrain had grown steeper as the trees thinned. Fewer trees meant more snow, drifted and deep. Walking became progressively harder. Eden struggled on, determined she wouldn’t drag this team down any further.

  The wind scoure
d the ground, blowing the loose snow and creating the worst dilemma for anyone on foot—a whiteout. She couldn’t tell north from south, and lost all depth perception. Eden tucked her chin into her jacket collar and focused on Ky’s boots. He kept marching. She leaned into the wind, her head down, but with all the drifting snow, it was easy to miss the tree stump.

  Eden tripped and fell, her hands forward. Her face would’ve biffed the ground, holding her bag over her shoulder like she was, but Ky turned and caught her as she tumbled.

  “Thanks,” she muttered, embarrassed she’d nearly landed at his feet.

  “No problem.” He dusted the snow off her knees and made sure she was steady on her feet before he let her go. “We’ll be there soon. You good?”

  She nodded. Good and cold was more like it. She wasn’t about to complain, but how’d he do that? How had he just anticipated her tripping? Precisely then? The stump was hidden beneath a good foot of snow. He’d been facing away from her, walking uphill, and yet he’d turned and caught her in time? Weird. Ky’s intuition was another problem for her exceptionally efficient brain to resolve if it ever got a moment’s rest.

  After an hour of steady plodding, Tate took the lead while she and Ky walked side by side behind him. “So what’s the plan once we get there?” she asked, breathing hard. “Put the tent up again?”

  Ky shook his head. “Tate’s our survival specialist. He’ll know what to do.”

  The terrain got steeper and the climbing got tougher. When she nearly fell again, Ky lifted the bag off her shoulders. “Here. Let me take that.”

  She would’ve protested if she hadn’t been thrilled at the offer. Her bag had gotten heavier. Her thin driving gloves weren’t intended for the bitter cold, either. She shivered. Her fingers were numb, but Eden was no quitter. She brought both hands up to her mouth and breathed into them for warmth.

  The vision burst into her mind. Six dark shadows. Running through the snow. Growling like trolls. Sweat running in their bloodshot eyes. Short-stock rifles lifted. Ready to kill all who stood in their way.

  She dropped to her knees, her heart blocking her throat. “Ky! They’ll kill you! Run!”

  Chapter Nine

  Damned woman. Again, she wants me to run? Like hell.

  Ky couldn’t see her, not in the blizzard. It hit hard, full of snow and a bitter chill that slithered through his TEAMwear. Where the hell did she go? Eden couldn’t have just dropped off the face of the earth. Holy shit, how much trouble could one woman be? She’d been right at his side a minute ago, but he couldn’t see a thing in this whiteout. He stretched both arms into the swirling void, needing to save her from herself again it seemed, and hoping his goggles detected her before she got too far away.

  “Eden,” he called, his voice immediately tossed back in his face by wind and snow.

  “Danger,” TEAMshield warned. “Imminent contact with Agent Eden Stark at your right.”

  He froze in his tracks and reached for the missing FBI agent, not feeling anything to his right, not until he lowered his expectations to ground level. He crouched over the lifeless woman at his fingertips.

  “I’m at the wall. Ten yards at your six,” Tate informed Ky via their TEAMshield link. “Where are you? I thought you were right behind me.”

  “Coming,” Ky muttered, lifting to his feet with a passed out woman in his arms. He cursed himself for not thinking ahead like he should have. He’d planned on keeping Eden warm and alive once he’d located her, Sweets too. That was why he’d brought the extra sets of TEAMwear. Why hadn’t he thought of extra goggles, too? She needed the benefits of TEAMshield as much as the warmer clothing, especially in this storm. Then she could’ve seen that thing she’d just tripped over.

  He made an abrupt about-face, no longer certain which way was north in the whiteout. “I can’t see a thing. Ten yards?”

  “Walk straight ahead. The path is clear. You can’t miss me.”

  Ky folded Eden under his chin and advanced carefully and slowly. The blizzard consumed them. His high-tech goggles allowed for depth perception and eye protection when a man could actually see. Not now.

  One misstep could send him sliding down the incline, never to be heard from again. Like Tate, he’d studied the terrain prior to this mission. Between the stretches of alpine forest, sheets of solid granite lay beneath the snow, a slippery death trap if conditions were right. Not good when a guy was carrying deadweight. Not that Eden was heavy. Hardly.

  At last, a dark and shadowy shape materialized. Tate. The stone fortress solidified out of the blizzard behind him. It was nothing special and certainly not warm, but it offered what Ky wanted: a battlefield with one front to defend.

  He’d have to outlast the storm to get a better lay of the land, but the incline he’d just climbed made the wall a favorable position. The six guys tracking Eden had to come uphill to get at her, the perfect ambush for a sniper on his belly with a damned good rifle and scope. Ky intended to be that guy.

  “Sit. Stay. Take a load off,” Tate commanded. “I’ll tell you when to move out.”

  Ky sank, his back to the wall and Eden once more on his lap. He bowed his body over hers while Tate disappeared into the whiteout. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “You’ll see,” Tate growled. “Give me five, will you?”

  Ky encapsulated Eden from the bitter wind, sheltering her head with his shoulders and arms. He cupped his gloves to the side of her face. Their breaths mingled in that limited space between them while snowflakes drifted through the cracks. He stilled, listening to her breathing while the storm raged around them, the small sound of her huffing barely audible, but sweet. Feminine. What was God thinking to have created this gender so fragile, yet endowing it with the toughest job of all—the ability to co-create and nurture something as precious as a newborn’s life? The resilience and sheer strength of women never ceased to amaze Ky.

  He’d puzzled over many of God’s miracles in the past, but right then, Eden was the loveliest of them all. She had none of the ruggedness of most of the female agents he’d worked with, none of the muscular build. No brawn. No muscle. Her body was softer. More lush. Curvier. She sported no tats that he’d seen—not that he’d seen yet anyway—just a lot of nerve to have made it this far from home without all that supposed FBI security she’d been promised. Where were they now, all those tough guys who’d been assigned to have her back? The Bureau had failed her. Big time.

  This particular woman had been part of the pre-op intel he’d studied, but having her in his arms made him think. He’d been around men most of his military service. Alex had a couple female agents on The TEAM, but it wasn’t often Ky came this close to truly, delightful feminine company. He’d missed it. Something deep inside of him missed it, too.

  His life was sparse and downright utilitarian. He worked hard, hit the gym and worked harder. Play had become a thing of his past, but this woman brought him a different kind of energy. It was as if she’d opened a window into the darkest parts of his soul and let her sun shine. On him. In him.

  He studied her better, wanting to memorize every last detail while he had the chance, like her long eyelashes. Thick. Curled against her cheeks like the wings of butterflies ready to lift up and fly away on a warm spring day. Dark brown, they were the same color as the streaks in her blond hair and the freckles scattered across her upturned nose and over her cheeks, a dusting of tiny chocolate chips.

  The bow of her full lips drew his gaze to her mouth, parted in a gentle sigh. He should’ve kissed those lips when she’d offered them earlier, but no. The terror of human touch got the best of him every damned time. He truly wished it didn’t control him the way it did. If it still did.

  He honestly wasn’t sure any more. Had he truly had a panic attack before, or had he only anticipated having one like he usually did? He leaned his nose to hers, testing his theory until they touched. See? It didn’t hurt. Not one bit. The tension in his gut unclenched. There might be hope for him.
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br />   But that was the dilemma. He could touch her. She just couldn’t touch him. That was why the gloves. Gloves discouraged displays of affection and gratitude, the touching that went with it. It made no sense, but his mixed-up memories jerked him through a knothole every damned time a person got too close or too friendly. Or did it?

  He took a deep breath. There it was again, that menthol fragrance drifting up from her delicious, warm body. It didn’t come from her breath, though. It wasn’t a cough drop, though it smelled similar. He nosed over her cheek and into her ear. Her neck. That was where it was strongest. He inhaled another whiff, relishing the instant calm that came with it.

  He couldn’t place the scent, only remembered it from the depths of his own personal hell. Part menthol. Part dust. Part sweat and blood, but one hundred percent hope. It comforted him now as much as it had before, but what was it? Why did it surround her like it did? He inhaled another nose full and let it seep into his soul, more convinced she was the woman he remembered.

  “Get off your butt and take a sharp left,” Tate barked in his ear. “In ten or twelve feet, the ground levels out. Stay low. The wall’s got a natural corner. I put the tent up. It isn’t much, but it’ll get us out of the wind. Look for the green glow.”

  Ky lifted up from the drift with Eden, his pack and hers. By then his entire right side was covered with snow. “Can do.”

  Tate was a godsend on an op like this. He’d snapped a chemglow light stick to guide Ky in. Locating the tent was no trouble once Ky got close enough. He ducked low at the open flap to transfer Eden into Tate’s open arms. With her safe inside the domed-refuge and safe, Ky dusted as much snow off his jacket as he could, kicked more of the powdery stuff off his boots, and climbed in behind her.

  The wind had turned wicked, howling along the face of the granite wall and pushing at the nylon walls of the tent. Tate settled Eden on the far side of the tent, nearest the granite wall. She lay on her side facing inward, an opened sleeping bag beneath her. Tate covered her with the fur wrap, a considerate item he’d brought along.