Wynter's Horizon (37 page)

She came at me again. I swung back, but my balance was off. I didn’t want to give her an opening, but my face could only take so much. My right eye was nearly swollen closed, and I could feel my left eye following.

She kicked me furiously, and I fell back to the wall, wrapping my fingers around the knife handle. As she reached down for me, I swung the knife up with all my strength into her stomach. She shrieked as it connected then stumbled backward, her legs buckling. Blood oozed from the lethal blow.

“You will go to Hell,” she whispered. I watched for a moment as the life slowly ebbed from her eyes. Dragging myself forward, broken leg and all, I reached down and pulled her up.

“Not before you,” I answered and snapped her neck. I dropped her lifeless body, staggering as I did.

I looked up in time to see El Teniente taking aim. He was too late. Quinn fired from his position and he fell. I threw myself forward, pulling his semi-automatic off his back rolling and shooting on Watson and Sanchez. My shots went wide and they ran for the crushed hut. Crawling to Drew, I twisted his cuffs until they snapped and pressed El Teniente’s pistol into his hand. He nodded and followed my lead. We snaked our way to cover by the side of the building. My leg throbbed, and I focused on the pain to keep me conscious and alert. The only way out was to kill. I could hear the shots ricocheting off the buildings and the shouts of the rebels and my crew. Wiping my sleeve across my forehead, I pinned my
eyes on the crushed hut and waited. Drew covered the back. It didn’t take long. The remaining rebels streamed out of the woods toward us. Drew fired repeatedly. As he reloaded, Sanchez and Watson broke cover. I took out Watson but Sanchez kept coming. Ripping the knife from my leg holster, I threw it dead on. It pierced Sanchez’s throat and he crumbled four feet from us.

Finally, the gunfire slowed. The sun was up now, and beads of sweat formed on my face. The pain from my leg reached me in waves and then receded before starting again.

“Where’s the rest of your crew?” I finally asked, my voice raspy and more grating than usual. I needed water.

Drew dropped his head for a moment. “They massacred them in the courtyard. Dumped their bodies somewhere in the woods. I saw them dragged away.”

“How many?”

“Eight. I hadn’t planned on her.”

“Nobody ever did. I’m sorry.”

Quinn and Sara came from the yard, careful, eyes and weapons sweeping the vicinity. But the rebels were all gone. Reaching down, Quinn pulled me up. I groaned, the pain full on now.

“You are chased, buddy.”

I frowned, staring at the blood caked on my hands. “Chased?”

“New word. Cooked. Toast. Chased. I’m trying it out. Why do those young kids get to make up all the ‘in’ words?”

I didn’t bother to answer, just smiled weakly. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, helping me out to the yard as Sara got Drew. Campbell, Fiona, Harold and Joanna were already there. Lilly and her crew, as well as the guerillas, lay dead, crumpled bodies strewn about the compound. We had done well if you counted success by dead bodies. Joanna had a shot to her shoulder, Fiona’s leg was ripped open, and Campbell looked bloodied from a head wound. Dirt and sweat clung to us all, but otherwise we were in one piece.

“Quite a plan, huh?” I stared at Lilly’s body, covered in blood and flies already buzzing. At one time, I knew its contours well.

“She used her powers to convert the guerillas to her plan and Drew to draw you out. Nicely done.” There was a hint of admiration in Quinn’s voice. “I wanted to take the shot but you guys were moving way too fast and I didn’t want to break cover. Not with the others in a standoff. I knew what I had to do. Watch you fight it out and hope you could win. It was some fight.”

I flexed my hand and nodded. Suddenly, I felt exhausted.

“Do you think they’ll come back for us?” Campbell asked, checking the ammo left in his rifle.

“If I know Katherine and Nat, they’re already on their way,” answered Joanna, collecting the weapons.

“Let’s get going then,” Harold interjected, leading the way.

I leaned on Quinn, and the others took point in case there were stragglers in the bush. We set off toward the rendezvous point. I stopped and looked back. I had nearly lost my life here. Twice.

“It’s over,” Quinn said. I met his eyes then glanced back once more before turning forward. I breathed deeply and instantly regretted it as my broken ribs protested.

“I’m completely chased,” I groaned out.

He laughed, but it got lost in the noise of helicopter propellers.

Chapter Sixty-Nine

Wynter—Finished

Julia convinced me to go with her and Brian to a St. Patrick’s Day party on the upper West Side. Some friend of Brian’s had a brownstone all to himself while his parents were in Europe—it even had an elevator to get to all six floors, painted like a garden scene with a white trellis and climbing morning glory vines.

It was a mob scene, filled with drunken college kids and grad students, many of whom I didn’t recognize. I lost Brian and Julia shortly after arriving and spent most of an hour trying to get a signal on my phone and searching for them from floor to floor before I gave up and retreated to one of the kegs. I waited for the nozzle, watching a very cute guy fill three cups. He smiled, and pure-white teeth gleamed against his bronzed skin. His light brown hair fell across his forehead in a sexy, carefree way.

“All for you?” I motioned to his stash.

“Yeah. I don’t like to run out.”

“Really?” I drained the dregs of my beer.

“No. Just kidding. I’m on keg duty. My friends are outside smoking.”

I nodded, having seen the brownstone’s garden and porch.

He grinned and passed me the nozzle. He had such nice brown eyes, dark and shiny like melted chocolate morsels. Beck’s were lighter, gray specks within the brown depending on what he was wearing, sometimes even hazel. I preferred Beck’s.

“You friends with the host?” He juggled the three cups but didn’t move to leave. My cup was only half filled.

“Kind of. We went to school together, but I was a year ahead. You?”

“Med school…” Someone bumped me from behind, and I spilled beer.

“Murello.” My stomach dropped as I recognized the voice and turned to face Jason. The cute guy nodded to me and disappeared. Even he could feel the tension.

Jason sneered. “Picking up?” I pumped the keg to quicken the flow.

“No. Just making conversation.”

“Haven’t I heard that before?” Despite his sarcastic tone, he scanned the crowd like he was nervous about something. “How’s it going?” I finished and passed him the nozzle.

He didn’t look as good as I remembered. His hair was too white-blond, and his face was puffy. I wondered if he had gained weight since we graduated. “Good. You?” I was trying to be polite, but I wasn’t sure why. I wasn’t at all interested in what he had to say.

He looked around again. “Great.”

I took a step away, looking for anyone else to talk to.

Jason coughed as if to gain my attention. “Where are you going?” He finished filling his own cup and grabbed my arm.

“To find Julia and Brian.”

“Where’s your English guy?”

“We broke up. Let go of me.”

He smiled, all cocky now. “You want to give it another try?” He leaned closer. “I heard they have an awesome pool room on the top floor.”

I jerked my arm away and stared at him dumbfounded. “No,” I said flatly.

“Come on. You know you want to.”

I felt nothing, not a flutter, not even guilt. I thought of the document tucked away in my top drawer. “Did you know Abby had been drinking that night?”

“Yeah, Abby always drank after a game. Lemon drop shots to celebrate. Why?” He took a sip, regarding me.

“Just wondering. You came after me, you know.”

“What?”

“That night with the accident. You came after me. I didn’t seduce you. I tried walking away.”

“You think that makes a difference? She was looking at a pic of us when you crashed.” His eyes narrowed. He really wasn’t handsome at all, not to me, not anymore.

I nodded, feeling like a prisoner who just had their sentence lifted. “Yeah, a pic of
you
trying to kiss me. And it’s the first time it’s occurred to me.” I smiled at the simplicity of it.

He motioned to people coming up the stairs. “Well, Julia’s over there. Maybe we should talk to her about it. That and the fact you like ties.” He gloated at me, the threat hanging in the air between us.

Julia signaled me, maneuvering around a group of drunks on the stairs. She looked concerned. I smiled and waved back. I took a long drink before answering. “Sure, why not. Let’s go talk to her right now.”

Jason’s eyes grew large. “You forget I know you. Dirty little you. You don’t have the balls to let anyone know what happened.”

I took a breath and smiled at him.

“You don’t know the first thing about me. Fuck off, Jason.” I turned and walked away.

Chapter Seventy

Beck—Loose
Ends

Ledford lived in South Kensington, near Hyde Park and a block or two from the tube. Quinn and I waited for his car, by the corner of his house. I twisted my body stretching out my ribs. It had been weeks but I still wasn’t all better.

“I’ll take the driver’s side.”Quinn offered grounding out his cigarette with his foot. “Talk fast and move faster. In case someone’s watching him.” I nodded, my hand wrapped around the small device in my coat pocket. I could feel the weight of my combat knife in the other pocket. Insurance. Ledford’s black mini cooper came to a stop and the ignition turned off. I ripped the passenger door open and leaned in. Ledford’s eyes widened in shock and he lunged for his door handle. It didn’t budge. He glanced back at me, panic stricken and threw his weight against his door. I pointed.

“You’ll never push him out of the way.” He looked out the window and Quinn, body planted squarely in Ledford’s way, grinned and waved. Ledford gulped, eyes returning to mine. I deposited myself into the passenger side and closed the door.

“I’m going to make this quick.” I withdrew the small device and popped the zip drive in. The scent of fear enveloped me and I could hear Ledford’s already rapid heart rate increase.

“I had no idea.” He offered voice shaking. I cocked my head at him,

“Of what? Her craziness or the fact she was going to kill us.”

“Any of it.”

“Really?” I pushed the button down and Baxter’s voice filled the car “Shouldn’t we warn Beckett and the others that she’s out?” And then Ledford’s clear reply ordering him to do nothing. I smiled at Ledford. “You really have to give Baxter credit. Taping your conversations. I didn’t think the little guy had it in him. Now a copy of this is in the hands of each of my group.” I tapped my fingers on the dash, “You know, the ones you didn’t want to warn. If anything happens to any of us, this will go public. And won’t people want to know how one of the heads of the British government did nothing to save members of its military.” Ledford swallowed noisily.

“You are not members of the military.” I clicked off the device.

“Technically you’re right. Thanks to that paper we signed.” I leaned towards him. “But know this - you touch me or anyone associated to me, and they will have to piece you together.” I opened the car door, got out and leaned back in. “You know what a bloody temper I have. Now we’re going to wait here until you get inside.” Quinn appeared at my side and we watched Ledford stumble out of the car, lock it and disappear into his house.

“What do you think?” Quinn asked, lighting a cigarette.

“It’s a fifty fifty chance.”

“Better than nothing. Let’s go meet the others.” I nodded and we moved off into the shadows.

The Dove was one of our
favorite pubs, situated on the river and as busy as ever. We headed for our usual table in the corner.

I slid into a vacant seat and grabbed one of the
available pints. Fiona stared at me. “It go okay?” I nodded and smiled at the memory of Ledford’s frightened face. “You’re different,” she said kindly, her Swedish lilt strong. We were taught at an early age how to suppress and disguise our accents, how to blend in, but unguarded we reverted to what was most natural.

“What?” I almost spilled my drink. “No, I’m not,” I shot back, perhaps a little too quickly.

Quinn stifled a laugh and put his hand toward Sara. Sara swore, a look of disgust on her face, and reached into her pocket, producing a hundred-dollar bill which she placed into his open palm. “How did you know?” Quinn asked Fiona. “Was it last night?” I shot him a murderous look, but he kept going. “I mean, it sounded like it went well from our room, lots of furniture moving.”

Fiona laughed. “You heard furniture moving because that’s what we were doing. Rearranging the room, literally. He hasn’t given me a tumble in months. That’s why I know, that and the fact that he’s always somewhere else, thinking of something else—something that, at times, makes him smile, which is really quite unusual.”

I shook my head. “I’m right here. Stop talking as if I can’t hear you.”