WAR: Opposition: (WAR Book 3) (16 page)

“Kirra?”

“Sorry. Headache. I get them sometimes when I try to access memories of the attack.”

“Then don’t continue.”

“No. I need to finish this. I need to be strong.” Months of practice helped her tune back in to the song in her head, aided by the feel of the guitar pick between her fingers. “I ended up with over three hundred knife wounds, seventeen broken bones, and a ruptured spleen. Plus a variety of other internal injuries, including intracranial bleeding from a blow to the head.”

The vibrations of Seth’s anger pulsed against her back. “Not to mention the gunshot wound.”

“Yeah.”

“Didn’t anyone from the party try to stop them?”

Kirra closed her eyes and swallowed. “Yes. One of them also ended up in hospital. The other died. After that, those who objected, fled.” She shivered.

“Were you raped?”

“No.”

Seth breathed out in relief.

“I have panic attacks if a situation reminds me of the attack. Blood and darkness are my primary triggers. When you pulled me into the garage, I fought you because it was dark. I remembered Franz dragging me into a dark closet. Telling me to die before he slammed the door shut.”

“I hope that bastard got the electric chair.”

“No. But he’s in prison. That’s good enough for me.”

“God, Kirra.” Seth’s voice was barely recognizable through the rough emotion that turned his words into a growl. “How did you get out of there?”

“An anonymous tip to the police. Franz and his friends didn’t make it far before they were caught. The police found me. Put me in an ambulance. I…died…a few times on the way to hospital. Then once more on the operating table.”

Seth let out a pained sound.

“I spent three days in a coma.” Her legs trembled and her head felt ready to split open. And she was cold all the way into her bones. “I’m feeling kind of shaky.”

Without a word Seth scooped her into his arms and carried her over to the passenger seat. He set her down, then pulled a lightweight bush jacket out of his backpack. He wrapped the jacket around her before handing her a bottle of water.

Kirra drank the entire bottle, then leaned back against the seat. The jacket smelled slightly of Seth and she held it up to her nose to block the lingering stench of cigarettes that reminded her of that warehouse. Closing her eyes, she slowed her musical visualization and matched the new pace with her fingering.

“Here.”

Seth’s voice startled her out of a light doze. She blinked open her eyes and stared blearily at the foil-wrapped bar he held out to her.

“I was saving this for a surprise, but I think you need it now,” he murmured.

“Chocolate? You have chocolate?” Tears filled her eyes.

“It’s all yours.” He placed the precious candy bar in her hand and closed her fingers over it. Then he placed a kiss on her knuckles. “You’re incredibly brave and strong, Kirra. What you went through makes you part of that rare breed of survivors. And I promise you this, not only will I keep you safe, but I’ll never hurt you.”

She gave him a watery smile. “See. I knew I’d win this argument.”

He stared at her in utter confusion.

“Don’t you remember? I flashed my scars at you because you were trying to convince me how bad you are.” She touched his chest, over his heart. “But no matter what you’ve done, you’re still a good man in here, where it matters.”

Seth’s eyes widened in surprise. He opened his mouth, no doubt to protest.

“I’m wiped out,” she murmured, too tired to argue with him. “Is it okay if I lie down in the back while you drive?”

He nodded. She refused his offered hand and slid out of her seat on her own, needing to feel in control. Then she shuffled to the cargo compartment and climbed in.

She fell asleep with musical notes behind her eyes and the candy bar clutched to her chest.

W
il studied
the recent additions to his notes. Special Agent Walton had been thrilled when Wil sent over the photo of the assassin. So grateful that she’d shared the man’s identity with Wil. But beyond saying that the presence of the assassin was relevant to her investigation, the special agent refused to say anything else.

No matter. Wil was good at reading between the lines. Walton knew, or strongly suspected, who’d sent the assassin after Jarrod. Which furthered Wil’s belief that Jarrod was wanted as a witness to the attack in Southeast Asia.

Why Jarrod hadn’t contacted the authorities at the time of the attack, Wil didn’t know. But for now, as long as Jarrod continued to protect Dev’s sister, Wil was ready to give the man the benefit of the doubt.

Wil’s computer dinged with an incoming encrypted email.

He opened it up, then raised his brows. His team had now been authorized not only to bring in Jarrod, but the assassin, Haig, as well. Haig was a private operator suspected in the deaths of several key allies of the U.S. in Southeast Asia.

Fine. Great. Wil had no issue with the assignment. Except that he didn’t have the manpower to carry it out. All of WAR’s teams were currently busy on other missions, and Wil’s guys were at a critical stage of the upgrades that prevented them from leaving base.

Which left the job to Dev.

Unacceptable. This required a team, not one guy.

Wil picked up his secure satellite phone and sent off a text request for Rio to call him. Maybe Rio could spin the situation to Morenga by pointing out that the assassin was a threat to the diamonds, thus justifying Morenga sending men to take Haig down. As long as the U.S. wanted the assassin alive, Wil trusted Rio to make certain that the assassin stayed out of Morenga’s hands and was eventually handed over to U.S. custody.

Wil gave a faint smile. He was well aware that Morenga had been using WAR to rid himself of rivals within the rebellion. It would serve Morenga right to be used right back.

J
esus H. Christ
.

Seth had suspected that Kirra had another side to her, but he’d never expected to hear such a violent story. His anger simmered and he fought against the urge to call up his mercenary friends and tell them to make certain Franz never made it out of prison alive.

Yeah, as he’d told Kirra, he wasn’t a white knight. Sometimes the only way to fight evil was with overwhelming violence.

He slowed the vehicle to drive over a deep crack in the pavement. He didn’t want to wake Kirra. She deserved her rest. No matter how badly he wanted to ease her pain over her past, he had more important things to take care of. The first was finding her a safe place to hide. After all she’d endured, he was more determined than ever to keep her out of the hands of the rebels. Which meant he wasn’t taking her up to her concert.

He’d checked the map after she’d fallen asleep. This road eventually connected with an east-west road that curved northwest before meeting a secondary north-south road. Although the secondary road passed by the back route to the concert, it also led to one of the UAR’s larger cities. A place that had not yet been invaded by the rebels. Kirra would be safe there.

She’d be pissed when she figured it out, but he didn’t care. He’d never forgive himself if the rebels hurt her.

They should reach his destination before noon tomorrow. That would give him a few days before he needed to show up at Bureh’s, allowing plenty of time to meet the assassin and die.

Satisfied that both Kirra and his family would be safe, he concentrated on his driving. He still had to travel through Sankoh’s territory without attracting the drug lord’s attention.

He eyed the sky. Storm clouds had been growing on the horizon for the past several hours and now blocked out the sun. Being on a paved road, he didn’t worry about the vehicle becoming trapped in mud. Although, if the storm turned out to be a fierce one, visibility might become an issue.

Movement in the rearview mirror caught his attention. He frowned as he watched Kirra climb from the cargo compartment into the back seat. “You can sleep longer,” he told her as she wriggled past him into the front passenger seat. A smear of chocolate marred her lips and he hardened as he imagined licking it off and then working his way down.

Don’t be an asshole. She just bared her soul to you. She’s not going to have any interest in baring her body to any man, let alone one like you who has more blood on his hands than her attackers.

Kirra shrugged as she fastened her seat belt. “I’m okay,” she murmured, avoiding his eyes and scooting closer to the window.

Crap. Had she somehow picked up on his arousal? “Thanks for sharing your story with me,” he said awkwardly. “I know that was painful for you.”

She gave a self-conscious jerk of her chin. “I figured you weren’t likely to freak out over the details.”

Yeah, he could imagine most civilians being uncomfortable with the level of violence she’d endured. “It took enormous courage to survive that. I’m amazed that you accepted my offer of shelter last night.”

The corner of her mouth lifted. “You seemed the less dangerous of my options.”

“Still, it was brave of you. I—”

Something cracked underneath them, then the front end of the Land Rover dropped and listed to the right. The vehicle slammed to a halt.

“What happened?” Kirra swiveled to look behind them. “Did someone shoot at us?”

“No.” There were no other cars in sight. “I think we just experienced a mechanical failure. Head into the jungle a few yards.” He nodded to the trees at the side of road. “I’ll check it out and let you know if it’s something I can fix.”

“Okay.” She shoved open her door and jogged into the jungle.

He appreciated the fact that she obeyed without question. Once she’d disappeared from sight, he palmed his pistol, grabbed his flashlight, and shimmied underneath the vehicle. Shit. The axle had broken.

He shook his head. Someone up above really hated him.

He slid out and removed everything personal from the vehicle. Then he quickly wiped the Range Rover’s interior and exterior of any fingerprints before joining Kirra in the jungle.

“We’re continuing on foot, huh?” she asked, taking her backpack from him.

“Yeah.” He explained about the axle. “Are you up to walking for a while?”

She nodded. When her stomach rumbled in protest, she gave him a sheepish look. “Sorry.”

“No. My fault. It’s been a long time since breakfast. Once I figure out where we are, I’ll find us a safe spot where we can eat.”

She perked up. “You have food?”

“Uh-huh. Now, be quiet and follow me.”

She threw him a tiny salute. “Aye, aye, sir.”

“That’s navy talk,” he muttered as he led her into the jungle. “We’re on land.”

Kirra just rolled her eyes. It was good to see her acting normally, instead of being the spooky woman who’d told her story with a mix of cold detachment and bone-chilling fear. He’d noticed the way her fingers moved while she spoke as if playing an instrument, and figured it was some sort of coping mechanism. He wanted to ask her about it, but was afraid of throwing her back into that dark space.

After ten minutes, Seth halted. “I need to determine our location before we continue.” He took out his satellite phone and pulled up the map feature.

He felt more than heard Kirra come up beside him. “Aren’t we going to follow the road?”

“Depends. Now that we’re on foot, our options have changed.”

She reached for her backpack. “Use the paper map.”

He spread the map on a series of low, exposed roots, checked their current coordinates from the compass on his watch, and drew a circle. “Right. We’re here.” He tapped the circle. “I want to get us over to this road.” He put an X on the secondary north-south road. “This is the concert.” Let her assume that they were aiming to go in via the back way.

“Hitchhiking is obviously out,” he said.

“We could play highwaymen and hijack the next car that passes.”

He shook his head in amused disbelief. “I think your confession has let your wild girl out. Weren’t you the one who disapproved of me stealing this vehicle?”

Kirra pushed a stray lock of hair back underneath the scarf wrapped around her head. “I changed my mind.”

Seth raised his brows.

She sighed. “After I woke from my coma and decided to turn my life around, I vowed to never lie or steal again. I didn’t want to be responsible for turning more people into victims.”

“Not even to save your life?”

She shrugged. “That possibility never occurred to me. I just knew that I had to avoid the temptation, because the thrill of a heist was too seductive. I could easily imagine myself being sucked back into the criminal world, and I didn’t know if I’d survive a second time.” She gestured toward the road. “I don’t think one more theft will push me back over that line.”

Maybe not, but he’d seen the glimmer of excitement in her eyes while the rebels were chasing them. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she was addicted to danger, just like him.

“You don’t have to test that conclusion, because we’re not going to turn to hijacking.” He pointed to a speck on the map. “I estimate it would take us a minimum of five hours of walking on the paved road to reach the suburbs of this town.” He glanced at the sky. “With the storm clouds, we only have a couple hours of light left. Even if we were closer to town, we’d have to stay hidden, which would mean no renting a room for the night.”

Her face fell.

“Sorry. I know you’re probably longing for a bed.”

She shrugged. “As I said, I’ve spent time on the streets. I’ll cope.”

“Yeah, you will. Because you’re a survivor.” He touched her cheek. Unable to decide if her eyes widened in pleasure or fear at his touch, he dropped his hand and returned his attention to the map. “Our best bet is to hike farther into the jungle so there’s less chance of being spotted, then turn and walk parallel to the road. Once we’re closer to town, we should be able to find another vehicle to steal.”

He hesitated, then decided Kirra deserved full honesty. “This is a particularly dangerous area to be on foot. The tribal chief, Albert Sankoh, is a leader in the local drug trade. I’ve done work for him, but that’s not going to help us. He offered me a full-time job a while back. I refused, and he didn’t take it well. If he’s heard that the rebels are tracking us, he’ll turn us both over in a heartbeat.” After a few more moments of studying the map, he folded it and handed it back to Kirra. “Ready to head out?”

She nodded.

It took half an hour before Seth found a small clearing that was a safe distance from the road, and also bordered with thick vegetation to further hide their presence. “Okay, break time.”

“Thank heavens.” Kirra let her pack slip off her back, then disappeared into the bushes.

“So, what about this supposed food you mentioned?” she demanded upon her return.

“Supposed nothing.” He waved to the items he’d lined up on a fallen tree. “I have bottled water and that rarest of all delicacies, MREs.”

Kirra gave him a dubious look. “Do I want to know why you have military rations?”

“No. But the better question is which military are these from?”

“Black market?”

“Something like that.” Seth picked up two of the items. “You have a choice of fu-fu and tomato stew from the Voltan army or some sort of mystery meat from Ivory Republic.”

“I’ll try the fu-fu. It sounds safer.”

“Good bet.” He turned the other package around in his hands. “I can’t tell if this is supposed to be a drawing of a guinea fowl or a goat.”

Kirra chuckled.

He opened the package, took a sniff, then poured it into his mouth.

“Wait! What are you doing?”

He chewed thoughtfully. “Still can’t tell what the meat is. But it’s not half bad.”

She glared at him. “Are you crazy? What if the meat was spoiled?”

Seth snorted. “The whole point of MRE’s is to provide a lasting food source for troops on long deployments. It’s safe.” He reached for a bottle of water. “Not always tasty, but it’s the calories that count.”

“Good to know.” She ripped open her packet and squirted the orange paste into her mouth. “Um,” she said after she’d washed it down with a large dose of water.

“That good, huh?”

She sighed. “I’ve had worse.” She settled next to him on the fallen log, then took another gulp of the MRE.

When they’d finished their meager meal, Seth reached for Kirra’s empty packets. Their hands brushed, sparking a jolt of sensual heat that ran all the way up his arm and down into more interesting places.

Not wanting to scare Kirra, he pulled back. But she caught his wrist with her hand.

“Kirra?”

Was the flare of heat in her eyes real? Or wishful thinking?

As if answering his question, she leaned forward and brought her mouth to his in a gentle kiss.

K
irra softly pressed
her lips to Seth’s, her way of testing whether this was what she really wanted. Sometimes, when she spent significant time thinking about the attack and the events leading to it, she fell into a funk afterward and didn’t want to leave her flat for days. Other times she wanted to embrace the world and experience everything it had to offer, because life was both precious and precarious.

As she lazily explored Seth’s lips, heat seeped through her. Oh yes, this was one of those
carpe diem
moments. Kissing him felt both wondrous and new. And as comforting as receiving a hug at the end of a stressful day.

Seth’s hand rose, hovered over her hair, then settled on her head light as a butterfly. The gentleness of the motion melted her heart a little bit. He’d looked so tough and scary last night, yet she’d been wrong about him. He wasn’t someone she needed to be afraid of. Instead, he was someone as complex as she was. Someone who didn’t treat her like a five-year-old who needed guidance, or a disposable asset who could be sent out on the most dangerous thieving jobs without any concern as to whether she made it home safely or not.

Urgency built inside of her. She shifted closer, then traced the seam of his lips until he opened for her. That’s when the tender, almost reverent, exploration changed. As soon as her tongue stroked along his, Seth groaned deep in his throat. His hand fisted in her hair and he angled her head so he could take the kiss deeper. Heat erupted in her veins with volcanic force. Tenderness was incinerated and replaced by a fierce, desperate hunger.

Her hands snaked around his neck, pulling him closer as he bent her over his arm. The fingers of his other hand slid underneath her top. The touch of his callused fingers on the bare skin of her belly sent heat rushing between her legs. She moaned and arched her back.

The sound of a bird squawking triggered her internal warning system. Kirra opened her eyes. A black bird was diving toward them. She tightened her hold on Seth and rolled sideways. The bird landed on Seth’s shoulder and nearly deafened Kirra with another angry cry. It thrust its beak toward her and she barely dodged out of the way in time to avoid being pecked. Then the bird flew up to perch on a nearby branch.

“What the fuck?” Seth glared at the bird as it continued to verbally berate them.

“Um…” Kirra eyed the bird with a mix of wariness and humor. “That was…weird.” Humor won, and she chuckled.

“I think I’ve just been insulted,” Seth murmured in amusement.

“Are you hurt?” she asked. He’d be in danger of infection if the claws had drawn blood.

“I don’t think so.”

She indicated for him to turn his shoulder toward her. “I don’t see any rips or punctures,” she declared.

“Good.” Seth pushed to his feet and helped her stand. She could tell from the warring emotions in his eyes—self-recrimination, regret, guilt, and others gone too quickly for her to name—that the sensual mood had been broken.

He stepped back. “Kirra. I—”

She pointed her finger at him. “Don’t say another word.”

He opened his mouth.