Option to Kill (Nathan McBride 3)
Read Option to Kill (Nathan McBride 3) Online
Authors: Andrew Peterson
Option to Kill
Also by Andrew Peterson
First to Kill
Forced to Kill
Option to Kill
Andrew Peterson
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Text copyright © 2012 Andrew Peterson
Originally published as a Kindle Serial, September 2012
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Thomas & Mercer
P.O. Box 400818
Las Vegas, NV 89140
ISBN: 9781611096958
Table of Contents
Episode One
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Episode Two
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Episode Three
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Episode Four
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Episode Five
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Episode Six
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Episode Seven
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
A text tone interrupted Nathan’s movie. He pressed pause and grabbed his cell from the coffee table.
echo five sierra charlie
He sat up and squinted at the message. Someone just used his operative name, and he didn’t like it. Only a handful of people knew his former company designation, and none of them would text him like this. In fact, anyone from his inner circle would’ve called, not texted. He wanted to ignore it, but that was wishful thinking. You can’t uncook a steak, and this one was burned.
“Sierra Charlie” — the military designators for the letters
S
and
C —
had only one meaning: “situation critical.” Someone was in a life-or-death struggle. It carried the same urgency as a “cover now” call over a police radio — drop everything and respond.
It could be a fishing expedition or an outright trap. He and Harv had enemies all over the world, and one of them could be baiting him. He’d delete this cellular account right away. Tonight. Nathan always kept his cell’s GPS tracking capability disabled, but there were still methods of tracing a cell phone’s location.
But on second thought, it seemed unlikely this text originated from a former enemy. If it had, he’d already be dead — or worse. One thing was certain: whoever managed to obtain his cell number had to be resourceful. Maybe he could turn this around and get some info on the sender.
He tapped the screen.
who are you?
Nathan didn’t consider himself a paranoid man, but now he felt vulnerable. He went upstairs to his bedroom and changed into 5.11 Tactical clothing, before punching a six-digit combination into his handgun safe. He grabbed his SIG and pocketed the suppressor and four spare magazines. He jacked a round into the chamber and lowered the hammer using the weapon’s decocking lever. Gun in hand, he returned to the living room and turned off the Blu-ray player.
His cell chimed again, showing a single name.
lauren
OK, fair enough, but not very useful. A first name didn’t tell him squat.
how do you know about echo five?
Nathan waited through fifteen seconds of silence.
my mom
What mom? Besides Harv’s wife, he didn’t know any moms who would or should know his old CIA call sign. In fact, he didn’t know any other moms, period. He turned off all the lights, cracked the blinds, and scanned the front yard. Sensing his change in behavior, his two giant schnauzers studied his every move. He took them to the kitchen door and pressed a forefinger against the capacitance scanner of the security keypad. The red LED turned green.
“Grant. Sherman. Search!” The dogs bounded out the door.
Nathan tapped another question.
where are you?
The messages originated from a phone with a local 858 area code, but “Lauren” could be anywhere. For one crazy moment, he toyed with the idea that Harv could be using someone to play a prank on him. Today
was
April Fools’ Day, but he knew Harv would never do this, not even as a gag.
la jolla
Nathan’s radar sprang up three notches. He was in La Jolla as well, his house no more than a seven-minute drive from any location within the community. Was there another La Jolla, in a different part of the country? He needed more info.
la jolla san diego? where in la jolla?
The answer arrived a few seconds later.
exxon lj shores blk suv
Nathan stared at the text. Exxon gas station at La Jolla Shores … in a black SUV? Depending on the signal at La Jolla Parkway, this person was no more than a three-minute drive away. Coincidence? Not in this Marine’s world. Time to get mobile. He grabbed his emergency travel bag from the hall closet, unzipped it, and secured the handgun, spare mags, and suppressor next to his folding Predator knife. He felt an adrenaline surge build as he laced his boots, so he slowed his breathing.
Whoever was sending these messages now had his full attention. If this was someone’s twisted idea of a prank, there’d be hell to pay.
In the garage, he belted himself into his Mustang. He always kept the vehicle backed in so he could exit straight out, but more importantly, he also faced the door when it opened. Seeing the driveway was clear, he took a few seconds to send another text.
what kind of trouble are you in?
He started the engine, pulled forward only enough to allow the garage door to close, and pressed the button. He never left his house without watching the door finish its descent. Old habits died hard. He opened the home security app on his phone and rearmed the system with a six-digit code.
Kidn
Kidn? “Kidding”? Was this Lauren person now telling him she was only kidding around? Then why use the “echo five” reference? It didn’t make sense.
Nathan didn’t text often but knew there were all kinds of abbreviations. Did she mean “kidnapped”?
He sent another text.
you still there?
Without waiting for an answer, Nathan started down the driveway. A few seconds later, his phone rang. He answered it, but didn’t say anything.
“…me that phone, you little slut! Who are you calling?”
He heard a rustling sound, then a long silence ensued. Nathan sensed a malevolent presence on the other end, like the draft from a slaughterhouse.
“Whoever you are, this is none of your business. Stay away from her, or you’re dead. I’ll do you …
slowly
.”
The call went dark.
Nathan braked hard at the bottom of his driveway as the privacy gate rolled open, then sped away, driving as fast as possible without being reckless. This area of Mt. Soledad was residential with steep, curvy roads, and he didn’t want to plow into anyone.
He no longer doubted the messages. There was hatred in the man’s voice, vicious and deep. Nathan had no illusions about the danger of jumping into this situation, but someone named Lauren knew his CIA call sign and also knew the “Sierra Charlie” reference. During their time as an operative team, Harv and he hadn’t interacted with many female operations officers, so it was unlikely Lauren was one of them. Besides, no trained spook would initiate contact like this, especially after fourteen years.
This definitely smelled like a trap. Nathan was many things, but naive didn’t make the list. At this point, he fully expected the situation to turn ugly.
Nathan ran a stop sign and turned left on a busier street. This was a well-traveled route, so he didn’t feel as concerned about speeding. People who lived along this road knew the score. He estimated no more than three minutes had elapsed since Lauren’s first text. Pushing the limits of his Mustang, he raced down the mountain until a model citizen forced him to drive the speed limit. He couldn’t pass, so he had to endure a painfully slow pace. At the bottom of the road, the signal to cross La Jolla Parkway was red. With a little luck, the delay wouldn’t be long.
He pulled into the line of waiting cars and replayed the call in his head. The voice had an Hispanic accent. He guessed the man’s age to be somewhere between thirty and fifty. The guy was obviously a bully by nature, and maybe worse, given the “die slowly” threat. Nathan knew about bullies — all too well — and, if possible, he intended to “properly” introduce himself. We’ll see who dies slowly
.
He assumed Lauren was fairly young because of her reference to “my mom,” which only made the situation more urgent.
The light changed and he followed the line of vehicles onto westbound Torrey Pines. The Exxon that Lauren had mentioned stood in a small retail center about two hundred yards ahead. As he approached, he scanned the area for a black SUV or any dark SUV but didn’t see one. He turned into the driveway and coasted past the gas pumps on the left. The absence of a black SUV meant he faced two options: wait or leave. He favored leaving. At the driveway abutting La Jolla Shores Drive, he’d have to turn right — a median curb prevented a left.