WAR: Opposition: (WAR Book 3) (8 page)

She flinched.

“Plus, the nearest police station is more than two hours away by vehicle. We could be three-quarters of the way to your destination by then.”

Her chest rose on a deep inhale and Seth tried not to notice how the movement pushed her generous breasts against the fabric of her tunic. But what could he say? She was a very well-proportioned woman for her size and he was a red-blooded man.

Kirra let out her breath in a long sigh. “All right. Thank you. I don’t have much money on me now, but once we reach the concert I’ll see that you’re paid.”

“I don’t need payment,” he snapped. “Christ. I’m not some cold-hearted bastard who’s doing this for gain.”

“You need to make a living.”

“Trust me, I can damn well afford to run you up to your concert.” It had taken a year to recover after unexpected repairs for his plane had landed him in financial hot water, but he’d been turning a slight profit for the past twelve months. “I don’t have any flights scheduled tomorrow and there’s no way in hell I’m going to let you find your own way up north, not with the rebels gunning for you.”

Her face softened a moment, then her wariness returned and her shoulders went back. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I’ll only accept your help if I can pay you.”

“Kirra—”

“Fair payment or I’ll take my chances on my own.”

They locked stares. The stubborn set to her jaw indicated she’d argue with him the rest of the night. He had to give her credit. Not a lot of guys would stand up to him like this. Proving once again that under that soft exterior, she hid a spine of steel.

Finally, he shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

“Okay, then. Good.”

An awkward silence fell on the room.

“Um.” She glanced around the kitchen. “Where do I go to wash my dishes?”

He took the empty bowl and plate from her and walked them over to a small counter. “Forget it. You’re a guest.”

Kirra opened her mouth to protest, but wisely shut it.

“All right,” she conceded. “I suppose I’ll head to bed, then. What time should I set my watch alarm for?”

Seth raised his brows and glanced pointedly at her damaged wrists.

“I don’t wear my watch. I keep it in my bag.”

Interesting. “Sleep as long as you like. As I said, I don’t have anything else scheduled.” He still had a few days until he was supposed to report to Bureh. It might not be the smartest move, but he didn’t have the heart to tell Kirra to wake up early just because he was in a hurry to die. A few extra hours weren’t going to harm anyone.

“Unless you’re due to report in at a specific time?” he added.

“No. They’re not expecting me until Thursday. I was actually heading in early but hadn’t notified them of my change of plans.”

“So no one will be looking for you?”

The fraction of a pause before she answered set his alarm bells jangling. “Right. No one knew I was on that bus, and I doubt the news of the attack will have made it all the way up north and over the border.” She drummed out a rhythm on the table top. “You wanted the name of the town. It’s Leodougou.”

“I know it. The nearest airport is about a hundred kilometers away. It should take less than two hours for us to fly there, so we have plenty of time. We’ll leave whenever you’re ready.”

“Okay. Thank you.” She yawned.

Seth gave her an understanding smile. “Just where did you spend last night?”

“Underneath some rocks above the water line at the beach. The rocks had fallen at an angle that provided a small dry spot.”

“Clever.”

She shrugged. “Between fear that the rebels would find me and the ferocity of the storm, I was too on edge to sleep much.”

Seth pulled the first aid kit out of the cabinet. “Let me treat your wrists before you head to bed.” He reached for her, but she yanked her hands away and hid them on her lap.

He stilled. “Kirra?”

“Ah. Sorry.” She kept her eyes on the table and her hands out of sight.

His stomach did a slow roll. Her reaction was too automatic to have been caused by a short period of time in handcuffs. She’d responded as if she were an animal attempting to avoid a consistent source of pain. “If you don’t want me to bandage them, that’s fine,” he said gently. “But they need to be treated to make sure they don’t get infected. I noticed back at the bar that you avoided looking at your wrists, so you either have an aversion to blood or are freaked out specifically by blood on your wrists.”

Kirra shook her head and didn’t answer.

Seth worked hard at keeping his anger at bay, but he desperately wanted to hit whoever had restrained her, then hurt her badly enough to cause long-lasting trauma. Whoever had made her ashamed enough to instinctively hide her wounds.

“So, how do you want to do this?” he ground out. “Close your eyes and do it yourself, or let me handle it?”

She lifted her hands and placed them palms-up on the table so that her wrists peeked out from the cuffs of her shirt. The scrapes had started to scab over, but there were a few places where beads of fresh blood dotted the wounds.

She averted her eyes and swallowed heavily. “I’ll manage. Thanks. Just…um…give me the supplies, please, and I’ll clean the wounds back in my room.”

“All right.” Seth fought to keep his disappointment out of his voice. It was perfectly understandable that she didn’t want a stranger handling her. Yet a small part still felt the sting of her rejection.

“There are matches for the lantern by the bed in case you need to get up later and use the facilities,” he said as Kirra pushed to her feet.

“Thanks.” She took the medical kit and the lantern, then limped down the hallway.

Seth stood at the window and watched her lantern until the light stopped in the guest room. Then he sighed and turned away.

As he washed the dishes using the barrel of water at the outdoor washing area, he had to admit that despite Kirra screwing up his plans, he found her an intriguing woman.

Which is often how your troubles start.

He flicked his thumbnail against his index finger. Right. He had to snap out of it. Kirra might be using him—playing the damaged innocent to earn his sympathy. After all, he had no way of verifying her story.

So, the sooner he got rid of her, the better. The only thing that mattered right now was protecting his family. Kirra couldn’t be allowed to interfere with his plan to die.

“
K
irra
. Kirra, wake up!”

Kirra batted at the hand shaking her shoulder. A second later, her sleep-muddled brain registered the unfamiliar male voice. She rolled off the bed and onto her knees, ready to bolt.

“Hey. It’s all right Kirra, it’s just me. Seth.”

Kirra blinked against the sunlight and waited for her pulse to return to normal. The light streamed through the window behind Seth, throwing him partially into shadow. In the light of day, with his jaw shaven and wearing a khaki cargo vest over a dark green, long-sleeved top that turned his hazel eyes more green than brown, he resembled a sexy adventurer more than the merciless killer she’d feared upon first spotting him.

Yet the pistol in his right hand reminded her that he was dangerous. That her life was still at risk.

“Sorry to wake you, but Komi’s son just told me that the rebels are conducting house-to-house searches. We need to leave.”

Kirra stood up. She’d slept in yesterday’s clothes, so she quickly slipped into the socks and low hiking boots she’d set out before bed. She didn’t like wearing closed-toe shoes, but they’d protect her feet better than her
plakkies
and were more sturdy than her
takkies
. “Okay. I’m ready.”

Seth’s eyes warmed with approval. He glanced at his watch. “Komi will be here in five minutes to give us a ride out of town. You can…ah…use the bathroom first if you need to.”

Delightfully surprised by his embarrassment, Kirra nodded. “Thanks.”

“How are your feet? Can you run if needed?”

“What?”

He shrugged. “Since you were limping yesterday, I figured you had blisters.”

She blinked. “You’re very observant.” Which she’d have to remember in case he proved to be a threat after all and she needed to escape. “I don’t have blisters, but the soles of my feet are sore from running over the rocks. I treated and bandaged the few cuts last night, so they’re not so painful today.” She gave him a faint smile. “I should be able to run.”

“Excellent.” He made a circling gesture with his hand. “Do that scarf thing again with your hair, like last night. Only, try to get all of it hidden this time. We’ll be going the last several kilometers on my motorcycle. We should have the area to ourselves, but in case we don’t, it’s better if you don’t stand out so much.”

“All right.”

He nodded in satisfaction. “I’ll see you in the living room, then.”

Nerves dancing, she fixed her hair and made a quick detour to the toilet. Some of her tension was irritation at being ordered about like a foot soldier. Most of it was due to fear. But a tiny part of her enjoyed the familiar excitement of matching her wits against those who wanted to catch her. Even though the stakes were exponentially higher than they’d been when she’d been on a heist.

After retrieving her backpack, she followed the sound of a newscast into the living room.

“As a follow-up to this morning’s report—”

Seth reached out and hastily shut off the radio. “All right. Let’s go out back to wait for Komi.” He turned his back to her and walked outside.

Her fingers tightened on the backpack’s straps where they passed over the front of her shoulders. “Seth, what’s wrong? Was there something on the news you didn’t want me to hear?”

“Not now, Kirra.” He pushed open the back door just as a well-preserved panel van pulled up.

Kirra’s anxiety increased when Seth motioned for her to climb into the dark, enclosed back. Her breathing quickened. The edges of her vision started to gray out. Oh, God.

She shoved her hand into her pocket to finger the guitar pick.

“Kirra, get in.”

Swallowing her fear, Kirra stepped into the van.

Seth slid the door closed and the vehicle took off.

With no windows, the back of the van was pitch black. Panic wrapped its fingers around Kirra’s throat, cutting off her breath.

Seth turned on an LED torch and she could breathe again.

He sat down on a crate, secured the torch underneath his thigh so that the light shined against a nearby crate, then rummaged in a small pack she hadn’t noticed him carrying. Kirra slipped off her backpack and took a moment to study the interior of the van. There were no exterior windows, but there was a small, sliding window between this compartment and the driver’s area. A motorcycle was tied down near the exterior door. The rest of the interior was crowded with crates and boxes labeled with a variety of food and drink brands. This must be the bar’s work truck.

“Does Komi own the bar?” she asked.

“Yeah. Here.” Seth held out a paper-wrapped bundle.

“Wha—” Kirra cleared her throat and tried again. “What’s this?”

“Breakfast. Groundnut paste and banana sandwich.”

She raised her brows, but had to admit that she was too hungry to say no to food. The sandwich, made with a doughy, white baguette, was surprisingly good.

While she ate, she surreptitiously studied Seth. She couldn’t get a read on him. Last night her first impression had been of a lethal predator lying in wait. He’d admitted to working for some nasty people. He’d offered to fly her to the UAR against his better judgment. Yet he’d been nothing but protective and caring toward her. He’d cooked for her and made her a sandwich.

What kind of tough guy did that?

He worked for Natchaba. Don’t be fooled because he’s been nice to you. You can’t trust him.
Hard experience had taught her to listen to that little voice.

A knock rattled the window to the driver’s compartment.

Kirra’s pulsed picked up.

Seth slid open the window and held a brief conversation with Komi.

“There’s a rebel checkpoint ahead,” Seth announced, moving toward her. “Komi is going to take evasive action. Lie down on the floor.”

Kirra had just flattened herself on the hard, ridged metal floor when the van careened sharply to the left. She slid sideways into a stack of crates. Then the van turned the other way. For the next several minutes, the van zigged and zagged and bounced over uneven terrain, the motion threatening to make her lose her breakfast.

Since she didn’t hear gunfire, she wouldn’t complain.

Eventually, the van slowed, then stopped. At a series of taps on the driver’s compartment door, Seth said, “Time to leave.” He opened the side door, then unfastened the motorcycle and rolled it outside.

Kirra grabbed her pack and followed.

While he spoke briefly with Komi, Seth climbed onto the bike and motioned for Kirra to put her pack into one of the panniers. It barely fit.

Kirra settled behind Seth and slipped her hands around his waist.

The bike leapt forward.

Kirra bit back a cry of surprise and clung tighter to Seth. After a few minutes, her body remembered how to balance itself from all the times she’d ridden behind Franz.

“It’s your fault for being so stupid. If you’d sat still, the way I told you, we wouldn’t have crashed.” Franz’s voice cracked like a whip.

Kirra huddled in the chilly rain as they waited beside the crumpled remains of the motorbike for one of Franz’s friends to come pick them up. It was no good trying to explain to Franz that she’d shifted her weight in an attempt to compensate for him overbalancing around the turn. He never listened to her.

Kirra scowled and inhaled, trying to catch Seth’s scent in hopes of erasing the memory. Franz was in prison. He couldn’t hurt her any more.

No matter who Seth worked for, he’d treated her better in the past twelve hours than Franz had the entire two and a half years they’d been a couple. Not that Franz had ever physically abused her before the attack. Just worn away her confidence verbally.

Which kind of seemed to support Franz’s constant harping that she’d been stupid. Because she should have left Franz within months of hooking up with his sorry ass.

She sighed and pressed closer to Seth. No. She hadn’t been stupid. She’d been grieving and lonely and desperate for someone to anchor her to life. Feeling lost and abandoned after her twin’s death, she hadn’t wanted to go on living. Too much a coward to take her own life, she’d jumped from an innocently reckless lifestyle into a darkly dangerous one.

“You weren’t a coward,” her therapist had replied when Kirra told her that. “You were simply too smart to believe that death is the answer. You have too much to offer this world. Part of you always knew that. You just needed a wake-up call.”

It was only after Kirra and Franz had joined with the thieves and she’d been sent on increasingly daring heists, often by herself, that the thrill of the thefts had revived her joy of living. And led to the attack that had changed her life.

The motorcycle hit a bump on the thin ribbon of dirt that served as a path, snapping Kirra’s teeth together and jolting her back to the present. This scrubby forest was mostly comprised of coconut trees and coastal grasses, which meant there was plenty of sunlight. And few decent hiding places.

Determined not to let the past ruin today, she closed her eyes and focused on the little pleasures. The warmth of the sun on her head. The sting of the wind on her cheeks. The coiled strength of Seth’s body against hers as they moved together to balance through a tight turn.

Her mind immediately made an erotic jump to the two of them intertwined in an entirely different way. Body flushing, Kirra inched back, wishing she dared release her hold on Seth. The attack by Franz and his friends had not included rape. Still, she never had erotic thoughts about a stranger.

Although, Seth was sexy in that rough-edged way she loved.

No. She didn’t fully trust him, so she wasn’t going there.

She forced her mind onto the song she’d started composing in her head the other night once she’d realized she wasn’t going to fall asleep in the rocks. The rhythm of the motorcycle’s engine and the occasional change in pitch as they hit rough road inspired several new lines she would add to the chorus.

The bike slowed down. “We’re here,” Seth called out.

Kirra opened her eyes. They bumped from the rough dirt road onto a flat patch of dirt mixed with gravel that dead-ended at the back of the hangar. Kirra couldn’t see the runway from here, but she did see the tops of plenty of trees. “Um, Seth? There is a runway on the other side, isn’t there?”

He chuckled. “Yeah. Plenty of room for us to take off.”

“Okay.” She hoped their ascent wouldn’t be too steep. The flight from South Africa had been her first and she’d been dismayed to discover that despite her love for stomach-dropping thrills, she really didn’t like sharp take-offs. Or abrupt emergency landings such as they’d experienced in Dahomey.

Dangling out a window twenty stories off the ground by her own choice? No problem. Hoping the pilot, a complete stranger, was skilled enough to keep the plane in the air? Terrifying.

Seth slowed the bike and parked it just outside the hangar. He helped her climb off, then said, “Wait here.”

He hurried over to the small, person-sized door, unlocked it, and disappeared inside. A moment later, he returned, slipping his pistol underneath his cargo vest. “All clear.”

Kirra followed Seth inside as he wheeled the motorcycle through the door and parked it in the corner. A strong scent of fuel and other, unknown chemicals hit her. She coughed, then put her hand over her nose and mouth.

While Seth began to roll open the main door, she studied the plane. It looked like one of those planes you’d see in films from the 1950’s, with a propeller on each wing and the same rounded nose as a commercial jet. There were two windows behind the wings and one in front, not counting the cockpit. She had no idea how many people it could carry.

The hangar appeared large enough to accommodate a plane twice the size.

Seth finished rolling open the door and the strong stench lessened enough that she dropped her hand from her face.

“It will take a few minutes for me to complete the preflight and get her ready for takeoff,” he said. “Go ahead and stow your pack.” He strode over to the side of the plane and opened the door.

Bullets slammed into the plane’s windscreen.

“Down!” Seth yelled as he ducked underneath the plane.

Kirra swallowed her scream, dropped to her belly, and rolled away from the direction of the shot.

The small window on the plane’s open door shattered. Seth swore. He’d pulled his own gun, but didn’t fire. Probably because he couldn’t see the shooter.

Kirra glanced frantically around for a place to hide. The portable racks of equipment were all tidily lined up along the walls, providing plenty of room for the plane to maneuver but no shelter for her. She crawled toward the back door, trying to keep the plane between her and the open hangar door at the front.

A bullet pinged off the left propeller. Another bit into the hangar floor mere feet from her face, kicking up concrete shards. Feeling the sting as a piece cut the back of her hand, she turned her face away and squeezed her eyes closed.

“On my count, run for the back door!” Seth yelled.

What?

Kirra raised her head. Seth yanked open the door to the plane’s interior. With him temporarily blocked from the shooter, he pulled out an emergency flare.

“One.”

Staying prone, Kirra levered her arms underneath her body and curled her toes under.

Bullets slammed into the wings in a measured, even line. Seth lit the flare, held an oily rag to the burning wick until the rag ignited, then threw both of them underneath the front of the plane where fluids had puddled thanks to a leak caused by the bullets.

“Two,” Seth called out.

Kirra shoved up into a sprinter’s crouch.

The flames ignited the pool of liquid. Seth tossed something onto the fire that immediately caused thick, black smoke to fill the air, obscuring them from the shooter’s sight.

“Three. Go!”

Kirra bolted for the door, zig-zagging to provide a less stable target in case the smoke thinned. Bullets continued to pepper the plane behind her. Lungs burning from the smoke, she reached the door and dove for the handle.

A bullet smacked into the metal door centimeters from her fingers.