by CW Browning
Charlie shook his head. God save him from civilians trying to do the right thing. It always ended badly, and never had the good results they so naively expected. While it was laudable, and even commendable, to want to adhere to a set of moral and ethical standards largely ignored by the majority of humanity, it rarely worked out for the best. Do-gooders were more likely to cause widespread harm than they were to do good, and therein was the terrible irony.
He turned away from the window and looked at the closed laptop on his desk. If he didn’t get this mess sorted out soon, Washington would get hit with a wrath the likes of which it had never seen. His lips curved unexpectedly in amusement. If Viper was unleashed, they wouldn’t know what hit them. Just as quickly as the smile came, it was gone. If Viper descended on DC, no one would be left standing in the end.
Charlie strode back to his desk and opened the laptop, settling down in his chair once again. Viper was being patient right now, but it wouldn’t last. She was distracted by Kasim, and by the shooter at John’s funeral. When those distractions were gone, her patience would end, and Hawk would be right by her side.
He had to wrap this up before that happened.
Chapter Forty-Three
Viper watched as Kyle silently moved through the trees. Dressed in dark brown pants with a green and brown camouflage jacket, he blended perfectly with the wooded area. A slender rifle bag hung across his body and Viper noted the slight bulge at his side, indicating a sidearm. He had come prepared.
She was perfectly still above him, settled in the branches of an old maple tree that had sprung up amid the pines, still with her combat knife in her hand. Viper watched as he drew closer, not a muscle stirring, her heartbeat steady and her deadly gaze focused on the assassin below.
Viper was perfectly comfortable in the woods. Both she and Hawk excelled in jungle warfare, a skill not many in the Organization were able to master. She had used it to her advantage many times, and it was one of the reasons she had ultimately decided to bring Kyle to her property instead of leading him away from her home. She had the advantage here, and she had every intention of using it.
Kyle was almost below her now, passing through the trees, his attention focused before him rather than above. She waited until he was directly underneath her, patient and silent. As soon as his shoulder was below her, Viper struck, swinging skillfully from the branch. She released her hold on the tree limb as she swung down, her feet hitting his shoulder blades and pushing him forward. He stumbled, lost his balance, and fell. As she landed behind him, Viper grabbed the strap to his rifle bag with one hand, slicing it off his body with her knife. Before he hit the ground, the rifle was flying through the air to land in the trees, well out of reach.
Kyle hit the ground hard and immediately rolled over. Viper looked up from the crouch she’d landed in, anger rolling through her unexpectedly as she stared into the eyes of John’s killer.
They studied each other for a charged moment, each weighing the other and determining the best course of attack.
“So the rumors are true.”
Kyle spoke first, his voice deep, sounding almost surprised.
Viper raised an eyebrow questioningly, forcing the almost blinding emotion burning inside her aside. She didn’t respond, but waited to see if he would continue.
“We heard you were a ghost,” he told her, raising himself into a crouch. “You have quite a reputation.”
“I promise it doesn’t do me justice,” Viper assured him, her voice an icy wave.
Kyle smiled.
“That remains to be seen. Why are you here? You could be anywhere.”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
Kyle shrugged.
“We both know why I’m here. You saw me at the hospital. You recognized me.”
“You recognized me first. How?”
He sighed, watching her combat knife warily as she flipped it casually into the air, catching it again smoothly without taking her eyes from his.
“John Smithe said your name right before he died,” he told her calmly. “Viper isn’t exactly a common name. You’re a legend. When you looked back in the hall, I knew it was you.”
Viper stared at him, her face an emotionless, cold façade. Inside, she was shaken. If John voiced her codename as he was dying, then he knew exactly what was happening. Any lingering hope she may have had that he never knew what hit him was extinguished. He knew he was dying, and knew he was powerless to stop it. And so he uttered the one name he knew would avenge him.
Alina hadn’t thought it was possible for the rage inside her to burn any hotter, but she was wrong.
“Why John?”
Kyle seemed surprised.
“Because I was paid, of course. A rather large sum, as a matter of fact. Much more than an FBI agent should have warranted. I should have taken heed to that old adage, if something’s too good to be true, it usually is.”
“Who paid you?”
“I have no idea. I keep all my transactions anonymous.”
Viper studied him. He was telling the truth. There was no need for him to lie, and she could see it in his eyes. He had no idea who hired him. Frustration mounted inside her.
“Not the best choice this time,” she murmured.
He shrugged.
“Well, live and learn. It was almost worth it to meet you, though. I really thought you were a myth.”
“As you can see, I’m real enough.”
“Tell me, what happened in Singapore? How did you get the drop on Wesley?”
“He made a mistake.”
Kyle raised an eyebrow.
“What was that?”
“He missed.”
Her lips curled into a snarl and she lunged toward him, her blade aimed for his throat. Before the knife could find its mark, Kyle blocked the blow, his forearm slamming against her wrist. The knife flew out of her hand, landing harmlessly a few feet away. Suddenly disarmed, she countered by slamming her left fist into his jaw, snapping his head back to slam into the ground. He absorbed the blow as he lifted his leg, planting his knee in her gut and forcing her off him.
Neither of them stopped moving, each fighting with a ferocity well matched. While Kyle was larger and stronger than Viper, she had speed and agility on her side. She rolled away from him, sweeping out her foot as he pulled his sidearm from his holster beneath his jacket. Her boot heel slammed into his wrist, eliciting a howl of pain as the bone cracked and the 9mm went skidding into the underbrush.
She sprang to her feet, but before she could deliver a blow to his temple, Kyle swung his leg, wrapping it around one of hers and pulling. Viper felt her leg give and braced herself for a hard landing. She hit the ground and rolled, dodging his arm as it slammed down where her throat had been seconds before. Swinging up to her knees, she straddled him, reaching for his throat. Too late, she realized her mistake.
Kyle grabbed one of her arms and turned towards it. In doing so, his leg moved up, trapping her opposite arm between his thigh and shoulder. Viper rolled with him, gaining just enough slack that when he applied pressure with his thigh, her arm wouldn’t snap in half. She sucked in her breath, preparing herself for what she knew was coming.
The loud pop of her shoulder dislocating echoed in her head as red hot pain seared though her shoulder and down her arm. Crying out in pain, Viper twisted her torso, using the sudden limpness of her right arm to her advantage. She brought both knees up, bracing them on his chest and forcing him back as her useless arm slid out of the arm block. Blocking the pain from her mind, she kicked out, using his own body-weight to put some distance between them.
Realizing he’d lost his dominant positioning, Kyle suddenly rolled away from her. Their grappling had brought him within reach of the discarded 9mm and he reached for it now. The fingers of his good hand closed around the handle. Turning onto his back, he fired.
Viper’s boot made contact with his forearm as he pulled the trigger. The shot was deafening as the bullet went
wide of her head, missing her and hitting a tree. Once again, the gun skidded out of his hand. Before he could lunge for it, Viper came at him from the side. Leaning over him, she hooked her arm under his, forcing it upwards and pulling his shoulder up off the ground. As she did so, she lifted her leg over his head and brought her knee down on the other side, straddling his head, facing his feet. Kyle hooked his arm over hers, rendering her arm hold useless, and clamped it to his chest as he struggled to get out of the hold she had him locked in. Viper felt her hold on his arm slipping and she pulled back, trying to break his grip, but Kyle was stronger and the grip wouldn’t budge.
Changing tactics, Viper leaned forward and clamped her hand around her right wrist, effectively trapping Kyle’s arm in a lock while his other arm was trapped at his side. Her right arm was useless, but she could use it to stop him from rolling out. Pain coursed through her again, and Viper knew she only had a few seconds before her arm gave out completely. Leaning her weight forward over his torso, she felt his head rise from the ground under her as her body weight forced his shoulders up. As soon as she felt them rise, she pivoted on her knee and slid her ankle under his neck, rolling back and onto her side. Her bottom leg slid under his neck and she hooked her other one over the top of his throat, trapping him in a scissor choke while still maintaining her arm lock.
Kyle reached up to pull at her leg, but it was too late. In a surge of adrenaline and pain induced strength, Viper contracted, squeezing her legs and arms together. Burning pain seared through her and she cried out as she used every ounce of strength she had left to choke the struggling man between her legs. Sweat poured down her face and her breath came hard and fast as his struggles slowly weakened until Kyle finally went limp beneath her, unconscious.
Viper held the position for a few seconds more, then slowly relaxed. Releasing her arms, she braced her weight on her good arm and released her legs, pulling her bottom leg out from under his neck. As she removed her other leg and came to her knees, Viper reached behind her and pulled out her .45 in one smooth motion. Standing unsteadily, she backed up a step, aiming at his chest. Before she could squeeze the trigger, Kyle stirred. He was coming around.
Viper stood over him, watching as his head moved and his eyes opened. They widened at the sight of the .45.
“This is for John, you son-of-a-bitch,” she said coldly.
Viper fired a bullet directly into his heart, watching as his mouth opened in shock and his eyes began to glaze over.
She squeezed the trigger again, sending a round into his forehead.
“And that was for Hawk.”
Hawk climbed off his motorcycle and glanced at the Jeep parked in front of the detached garage. She was home. Part of him had hoped, during his frantic ride from Kyle’s hotel, that Alina had left the house. No such luck.
Damon turned and started across the grass toward the house, listening for any sound out of the ordinary. His body was tense, his senses tuned, waiting for the first indication that Kyle was here.
A muffled gunshot echoed out of the trees behind him and Hawk spun around, breaking into a run. Of course! Viper would have gone out to meet him, not remained a sitting target in the house.
He entered the woods, moving swiftly through the trees in the direction of the shot. He listened as he ran, straining for any sound to give him a hint as to where they were. His blood ran cold when he heard Viper cry out, the sound much closer than he expected. It was a long, drawn out cry, filled with pain.
His heart pounded, surging into his throat as he turned toward the god-awful noise. He rounded a hollowed out log and clump of underbrush, his chest tight as he found it suddenly hard to breathe. If she was dead when he got there- Damon blocked the thought as it presented itself. She couldn’t be. He wouldn’t allow it! Hawk pulled out his Beretta, flipping the safety off as he emerged from behind a group of trees. The scene in front of him made him stop short.
Viper stood over the assassin, her gun pointed at his chest. He was coming around, and Hawk watched Viper’s face as she waited for him to open his eyes. This was the Viper Hawk remembered from years past. There was no trace of the Jersey Girl, only the icy, stone-faced killer. But it was her eyes that gave him involuntary pause. They were blazing with a fierce fury barely contained. Hawk realized this Viper wasn’t the emotionless weapon he was used to. This one was a trained assassin who was seriously pissed off.
The gunshot rocked the woods, echoing through the trees with deafening precision, followed almost immediately by a second one.
Relief slammed through Hawk, robbing him of breath, as Viper lowered her left arm. He slid the safety back on his gun and took a step toward her, raising his hands when she swung her .45 up again to point directly at him.
“It’s me!” he exclaimed, sighing when she lowered her weapon.
Viper seemed to sag before him, the icy, lethal look on her face fading as he came toward her.
“For God’s sake, Hawk,” she muttered. “Stop creeping up on me!”
She switched on her safety and slid her gun into her back holster, glancing at the body on the ground. Hawk watched as her face grew shuttered and her lips tightened.
“One down,” she said, almost to herself.
Damon put away his Beretta and walked toward her, noting her right arm hanging limply at her side.
“Your arm...”
She raised her eyes to his.
“My shoulder is dislocated,” she said, turning away from Kyle. “My own fault. I didn’t give him enough credit and realized it a second too late.”
Damon grimaced.
“Have you dislocated it before?” he asked, reaching for her limp arm.
“Yes.”
“Try to relax,” he said, lifting her forearm gently until it was parallel with the ground. He pressed her bicep against her body and glanced into her face. “Are you ready?”
Alina met his gaze and nodded, locking onto his blue eyes.
“Do it.”
Damon nodded and rotated her forearm away from her body, his eyes on her face. Keeping one hand on her forearm, he moved his other to her upper arm and began to rotate it back away from her torso. A second later, her shoulder popped back into the socket as she gasped softly. Damon gently moved her forearm across her body and pulled her to him, his arms going around her. She sagged against him as he rested his chin on the top of her head.
“How did you get him down?” he asked, his eyes going to Kyle’s body. “I know he didn’t just lie there and let you shoot him.”
“I got him in a scissor choke,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest. “I didn’t think I’d be able to hold it with my shoulder done for, but I managed it.”
Damon pulled away and looked down at her.
“That’s my girl,” he murmured softly, a warm glint in his eyes.
He lowered his lips to brush them against hers gently before straightening up and pulling away.
“What are you going to do with him?” he asked.
For the first time since he came upon her, a smile pulled at Alina’s lips.
“What any self-respecting Jersey girl would do,” she answered. “Dump him in a landfill.”
Damon handed Alina a glass of wine and sank onto the couch next to her, a bottle of Yuengling in his hand. She took the wine gratefully. The sun had set before they returned from disposing of Kyle’s remains, and by the time they entered the house, Alina was drained and exhausted. Her shoulder throbbed, her legs hurt, and her body felt like she’d been dragged backwards through a hedgerow.
“How did he find you?” Damon asked, turning sideways to face her and stretching his arm along the back of the couch behind her head.
Alina glanced at him sheepishly.
“I told him.”
Damon raised his eyebrows.
“You what?”
“Not directly,” she clarified. “When I found his car after the funeral, I took the GPS chip.”
“Yes, I remember. That was slopp
y of him.”
“That’s what I thought, at first. Then I realized the reason it was left was because he wanted me to find it.”
Damon sucked in his breath.
“Of course,” he breathed. “He put a reverse tracker in it.”
“Bingo.”
He studied her.
“And you knew this before you came back here?” he asked softly.
Alina smiled at the look of disbelief in his face.
“Yes. I wanted to bring him to me. The easiest way to get to a target is to bring them to you.”
“You’re insane,” he said, lifting his beer to his lips. “Absolutely insane.”
“If you really thought that, you wouldn’t be smiling.”
“I’m smiling because it worked,” he retorted. “That doesn’t change the fact it was reckless. What if he’d showed up while Angela and Michael were here?”
“Hawk, take a minute and think,” she said tiredly, leaning her head back against his arm. “If you knew the location of a target, and that target had several strangers with them, would you attack? Or would you wait until the extras had left the building?”
A reluctant grin pulled at Damon’s lips.
“I’d wait,” he admitted.
“Exactly.”
“Did you crack the firewall yet?” Damon asked after a few moments of silence.
Alina nodded, glancing at him.
“Yes. He wasn’t one of us.”
Damon stared at her.
“Then what’s the story with the entrance application?” he demanded. “You said it was ours!”
“It was.” Alina leaned forward and set her empty wine glass on the coffee table. “He never made it out of training. Charlie terminated him before he finished. He was deemed too dangerous after a few psych evals.”
Damon’s brows snapped together sharply.
“He was psychotic?”
She nodded.
“Charlie didn’t want to risk it.”
Damon let out a low whistle.
“So he was an assassin without a cause. A mercenary. How did he know about Jordan Murphy?”