Betrayed (Hostage Rescue Team Series Book 9) (7 page)

Now, at her weakest and most vulnerable, she was going to have to fight for her life.

Ignoring the tremors that shook her she rushed for her duffel and quickly pulled on dry clothes, then unlocked the guitar case and took out her sniper rifle.

Armed and ready, she laced on her boots and headed for the door, prepared to meet her fate. Whoever had come here thought they could get the drop on her while she was debilitated, but they were wrong.

She would take them out first or die trying.

You have to get out of the cabin and hunt your enemies down before they find you first.

Shivering with fever, Georgia pushed aside the antique trunk set against the wall to reveal the secret trapdoor beneath it. This, along with the cache of weapons and supplies she’d hidden in here and the cabin’s secluded location were why she’d risked everything to make it here yesterday.

The old hinges groaned as she pulled the trapdoor open. A rush of damp, earthy-smelling air wafted out. Inside the cellar beneath it was pitch dark. So dark that even with the night vision goggles she’d grabbed they wouldn’t help her to see once she climbed down and closed the trapdoor above her.

Moving fast, she slung her rifle across her back, climbed onto the short ladder that led into the old root cellar, then shut the wooden door above her head. Unable to see anything, she navigated her way to the access tunnel by memory. The supplies she’d wrapped in waterproof tarps lay undisturbed where she’d left them.

Seventeen paces ahead, she raised her hands, felt along the rough stone wall until she found the opening and crawled through it. Some old prospector must have dug the tunnel back in the 1800s.

She crouched to avoid hitting her head on the ceiling and hurried through the thirty-yard-long tunnel. At the far end, another trapdoor was set into the rock roof. Her muscles strained as she pushed at it. It had been more than five years since she’d last used it.

Inch by inch, it began to lift. By the time she got it open enough to boost herself through it, exhaustion was already pulling at her again. She shook her head, forced herself to focus. Staying low, she ran through the woods on unsteady feet.

The rain slapped at her face, her goggles protecting her eyes and allowing her to see the uneven terrain in the increasing darkness. The remote monitor she held still showed four heat signatures drawing nearer. She didn’t know who they were, but how the hell had they found her so quickly? The sun had just gone down, which meant she’d been asleep for a damn long time.

It felt like she hadn’t slept at all.

Her boot slipped on a slick tree root. She shot out one hand to grasp an overhead branch and stop the fall, silently cursing herself. One misstep now could mean her death.

Escape and evasion weren’t options for her now. It didn’t matter how they’d found her. These were skilled hunters after her; she was too ill, too weak at the moment. She’d never be able to outrun them. And staying put inside the cabin would have been signing her own death warrant.

Never
, she vowed grimly as she headed up the long slope that led away from the creek bed. The single target was still isolated from the others.

Had to be the sniper with the kill team. She needed to circle around behind him, use her insider knowledge of the area and the terrain to get in position and take him out before the others realized what was happening and rush to his aid. The customized silencer would help conceal her first kill, and that was crucial to help buy her enough time to sneak up on the other targets.

Her only chance was to use the element of surprise and keep the survivors divided, take them out individually so they couldn’t attack together.

She shivered as she climbed a group of boulders buried into the muddy hillside, every muscle and joint aching in protest. Her pulse was a dull, heavy beat in her ears, drowning out the sound of the rain and the distant rush of the creek. She kept mostly to the rocks, doing everything in her power to avoid leaving an obvious trail for them to follow.

Squinting against the dizziness assaulting her, she paused to check the monitor once more. The single target was still moving away from the others, heading toward her cabin. Big mistake.

Jaw set, she angled to the right and veered across the property, heading for the slight rise that sat on the hill above the cabin. The climb cost her. She gasped for breath. Halfway up her leg muscles began to tremble with fatigue.

Gritting her teeth, she forced her feet one step at a time up the hill. When she reached the spot she was panting, almost swaying on her feet.

It was a relief to lie down and stretch out on her stomach, but the exhaustion was so heavy, dragging her down into mud. She shook her head violently to clear it, forced her eyes to stay open.

The feel of her rifle in her hands was comforting. She gathered sticks, branches, leaves and foliage then began covering herself with them. There was no time to do more but this would hopefully conceal her position enough to keep her alive until she’d neutralized the threat.

A trickle of mud poured down the rocks to her left, scattering small stones and other debris with it.

She stared at it through the goggles, heart tripping in alarm. The sudden motion in the otherwise still landscape would draw the eye of anyone in the area looking for her. It could give her away.

She didn’t dare move, huddled beneath the hastily-constructed camouflage. A glance at the monitor showed the target should be coming into view any moment now. Poised with her eye to the scope, she waited for her prey to wander into her crosshairs. Any second now.

She slowed her breathing, ignored the physical discomfort of lying freezing on the muddy forest floor, watching.
Step into my office, asshole.

But Mother Nature had other ideas.

Seconds later the trickle beside her turned into a small mudslide, slithering its way down toward the creek bed. Rocks and other debris began to tumble down the incline as it gained power, the sound carrying louder with every heartbeat.

Shit
, she mentally cursed, and began backing up as fast as she dared, away from the noise that would draw attention.

Each careful shift of her body put her at risk. Whoever was out here would have night vision equipment too. Maybe even access to drones, though the terrain and weather would surely impede their effectiveness.

Regardless, she couldn’t stay here. She had no choice but to get to her hands and knees and crawl up the hill before her location was compromised.

Even sick as she was, her training took over, stopping her from obeying the instinctive reaction to get up and flee. Slowly, careful not to disturb the brush around her, she inched backward up the incline.

The angle was bad, making each movement awkward. Already weak from the fever, the muscles in her arms and legs shook with the effort. Her heart careened in her chest as her right hand slipped.

She threw out the left one blindly to catch herself and stop from sliding headfirst down the hill. The heel of it shoved against a sharp stone wedged into the mud, dislodging it.

A sickening burst of fear broke over her.

Frozen in place, Georgia watched in slow motion as the rock tumbled down the hill. It bounced and gained momentum, taking chunks of mud with it, each thud like a hammer blow against her pulsing eardrums.

She might as well have been lit up by a spotlight.

Shouldering her rifle, she pushed to her feet and ran up the hill, needing to get out of there immediately. She’d barely gone three steps when a hot, sharp pain lanced through her right hip.

She stopped short, an angry cry ripping from her lips. Stunned, she glanced down to see something sticking out of the side of her hip. Automatically she reached down and yanked it out, stared numbly at the dart in her hand.

Mother
fucker
.

Throwing it aside into the mud, desperate to escape before whatever the shooter had hit her with took effect, she put on a burst of speed and ran toward a trail that she knew ran close to the road.

She made it less than thirty yards before the drugs took hold. The world seemed to tilt sideways and no amount of struggle against it helped.

Her legs began to give out. She flung out a hand to grab for a supporting branch, missed. Her knees hit the ground with a jarring thud, then her hands. Already she could feel the weakness stealing through her veins. Paralyzing her.

Her gaze strayed to the right near the top of the ridge, where the shot had come from. She thought she saw something moving off to the far left up there, at the edge of her peripheral vision.

No.
No
, she screamed silently. It couldn’t end like this. She couldn’t die like this.

Her heart beat a frantic, desperate rhythm against her ribs. But she couldn’t move. Was already sinking under the pull of the drugs, her limbs too heavy to move.

She hit the forest floor facedown and lay there, unable to move. Her face was wet, and she knew it wasn’t just the rain.

A string of images flashed through her mind, one after the other, at high speed. Of her earliest memories of her mother. Her Valkyrie-trained sisters who had once been like family to her. Of Frank.

And Miguel.

As the vision of his hard, handsome face swam through her mind, a sharp burst of grief detonated in her chest.

She’d never expected to care about him. Had never imagined there was so much decency and kindness inside him after all that he’d done. Yet in him, she’d seen her own chance at redemption. A fleeting dream shattered by a few well-placed bullets.

Maybe I’ll see him again,
she thought, a wild surge of fear mixed with hope rising inside her.

Even as she thought it she knew it would never happen. After the lives she’d taken in this life, she would never go to heaven, even if such a realm existed.

Her body was limp, her muscles lax. She knew she was dying. But there was no peace, no warmth or floating sensation she’d heard people talk about after having a near death experience. There was only a cold so intense it burned, the drugs searing her veins as they sped through her bloodstream.

The night vision goggles were still in place. Her disoriented gaze landed on a fallen leaf inches in front of her face, snagged and focused for a moment. The raindrops collected on its surface looked like tears.

The sky is crying for me because no one else will.

It was her last thought before the black wave of unconsciousness engulfed her.

****

What the hell?

Nico lifted his head from where he’d been staring through the scope of his rifle and scanned the area around him, just to be sure. Seeing nothing but branches and foliage in the green glow of his night optics device, he quickly looked back through the scope again.

He didn’t have a clear view but Georgia was definitely down, and she wasn’t moving. Shit. It was supposed to be his kill. He’d chosen this spot specifically, had planned everything out, all for nothing. When he’d talked to that old timer in the bar earlier, he’d thought it had been his lucky break.

The long-time resident had seen a woman matching Georgia’s description heading down the deserted road last night. He’d told Nico about the old miner’s cabin down by the creek, then Nico had found and followed the rain-washed tracks in the road.

He had no idea why she’d chosen to hole up here, but he didn’t care. He’d been so sure the lead would give him the edge on her and whoever else was targeting her.

Who the fuck had shot her? The individual set of tracks he’d seen before had been fresh and well to the northeast. He’d been careful to move southwest, away from the road, to avoid any contact until he was able to identify who it was. And this shot had come from a spot that whoever had made those tracks could not have reached in time.

Which meant there was another threat out here for him to worry about.

He shifted his rifle an inch to the left, tried to get a better look at her. He’d seen her stumble into view through the screen of trees seconds ago, then she’d just collapsed. He knew several organizations had a vested interest in taking her out. Knew that at least two other assassins were lurking in these woods tonight.

Bautista.

The hair on the back of his neck stood up at the mere possibility. If it was Bautista, if he was that close without Nico being aware of it, then Nico needed to move. Fast.

Because if Bautista was aware of his presence, then it meant he was living on borrowed time. And if Bautista wasn’t aware yet, chances are he soon would be.

Careful not to disturb the brush that had served as his camouflage, Nico picked up his rifle and eased back behind the sturdy tree trunk a few yards behind him. Nothing moved in the undergrowth around him, there was no sound except for the steady patter of rain and the distant rush of the creek below.

It didn’t ease the dread coiling in his gut.

His thoughts flashed to Melissa, her hazel eyes glowing in the sunlight as she smiled up at him the morning he’d left for this job. She was his whole life, the only one who had ever given him a chance and not dismissed him as a fuckup. Well, her and his uncle. He’d taken this job to give them a better life, but that was before he’d found out it meant killing Bautista.

Don’t think about it. He’s just another target. Do your job.

Creeping back out of the bush, he paused to do another sweep with his rifle. He could just make out Georgia’s legs sprawled out, in the gap between two tree trunks.

A quick look to both sides of her showed no movement. Whoever had shot her would be coming to confirm their kill though. Might be closing in on her now.

Nico didn’t think he’d been spotted yet, and he planned to keep it that way. The rain would help conceal the few tracks he inadvertently left behind, but a skilled tracker would be able to follow him no matter what. His orders were to kill both Bautista and the woman. He might be able to carry out both hits tonight, if he was smart and a little bit lucky.