Maximum Risk
Authors: Jennifer Lowery
Maximum Risk
By Jennifer Lowery
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Table of Contents
Other Books by Jennifer Lowery
Maximum Risk
By Jennifer Lowery
Copyright ©2014 by Jennifer Lowery
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
License Notes
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
Cover design by The Killion Group, Inc.
Editing by Piper Denna
Author photograph by Trent Anderson of GreatScotMan Photography
https://www.facebook.com/GreatScotManPhotography
This book is dedicated to my husband for always believing I could finish this darn book! No matter how much trouble it gave me, he always encouraged me to finish it. Thanks, honey, for your unwavering support! I love you.
There are many people who helped me finish Maximum Risk. For me, I never would have reached the end without the loving support of my family. My hubby, Mike, I owe for taking on the burden of supporting the family while I followed my dream. I love you, honey! And my children, Hunter and Jenna for helping keep the house clean so I could write! Love you! My sisters, Abby and Melissa, for their support and humor and fun times when we got together for coffee and great conversation. My mom for always being my biggest fan. My dad for being my biggest supporter. I still have the cards and kind notes, Dad! Thanks, guys, for being there for me. Love ya!
To my awesome military research guy, RJ, you’re the best! I couldn’t have written this book without your help! Your military expertise, plot help, and read-through’s were invaluable. Thank you so much for responding to my many emails so quickly-even when you’re a world away!
To Kristen and Connie for taking time to read through my ms.-even if the story made you cry, Kristen!
To my awesome JTT’s for serving as beta readers, friends, and the best Street Team an author could ask for! I value all of you more than you could ever know. Thank you for being part of my team.
To the fabulous Rom-Critters out there, you guys ROCK! I value your friendships and critiques beyond words. Humbly, I thank you.
A special thank you goes out to my critique partner and dear friend, D’Ann Lindun. She served as beta reader, CP, sounding board, brainstorming partner and so much more. Whenever I needed her she was there with a good word, ear to listen and solid advice. Without her I don’t think I would have made it through the revision and publishing process! You rock, lady!
To the most fabulous editor in the world, Piper Denna, who makes me a better writer! Thank you, Piper, for your humor and encouragement, and guidance. My books wouldn’t be complete without you!
And, to anyone I may have accidentally overlooked please know you are not forgotten. I appreciate each and every one of you who helped me get through the writing of this book.
Last, but not least, I just want to send out a big THANK YOU to all my readers out there! Without you I wouldn’t be here. My wish is to one day meet each and every one of you so I can personally thank you for your generosity and support!
All my best,
Jennifer
Chapter One
Mohira Valley, Azbakastan
She ran for her life.
Avery Marks forced her wobbly legs to carry her away from the road. Sharp rocks cut into her bare feet. Her foot slipped on loose gravel and she stumbled to her knees, scraping them through the fabric of her cargo pants. Men shouted behind her.
Too close.
She pushed to her feet and started running again. The terrain changed, sloped downward, and she sprinted harder toward the Ibi River. It would lead her to civilization.
A bullet zinged over her head. She ducked, crying out.
Scrub brush tore at her legs. Avery bit down on her lip as she hurried down the mountain. Determination beat out the dots swimming in front of her eyes and the ringing in her ears. The roar of the river in the distance pulled her.
More bullets rained around her. Men shouted in Azebek for her to stop. She pressed harder, forced her heavy limbs to move faster, go further.
The sound of rushing water drew her to a steep, rocky cliff. She skidded to an abrupt halt, sending loose pebbles sailing over the edge. Water fell over an outcrop of slippery rock to a pool below. Large boulders made up the rock face on both sides. Shrubs interspersed them, but she couldn’t trust them to hold her weight.
Could she climb down without slipping and falling? It was a long way to the bottom.
What choice did she have?
A bullet zinged past her head. Avery dropped to a crouch and began to descend on all fours.
The noise of the water drowned out the voices of the men chasing her. Her heart slammed against her ribcage. Hot midday sun beat down on her, but fear chilled her. Her fingers scraped rock as she scurried.
Water sprayed her in the face as she scrambled downward. Relief surged when she reached the bottom ledge. It quickly evaporated when she looked over the edge of the rocky outcrop.
She turned a slow circle. Nothing but rocky interfaces everywhere she looked. A rock wall prison with only one way out. To go up the same way she came. Or jump. From above, water pooled on the ledge and continued to fall into the river.
Far, far below.
Trapped
.
A pebble bounced off her head. Men descended the cliff, guns strapped to their backs. Within minutes they would reach her.
Resigned, she watched them land on the ledge one by one, weapons trained on her, black eyes daring her to make a move. Sweat ran down their dark-skinned faces and the stench of them took her back to the hellhole they’d kept her in.
They thought they had her. That they would take her back.
She wasn’t going back.
Her heels touched the edge of the rock. They shouted at her, waving their guns in the opposite direction, away from the edge. For the first time since they’d kidnapped her she wasn’t afraid. They would never take her again. She wouldn’t let them.
Avery spread her arms wide, looked up to see a man standing on the boulder above. His eyes bored into her, dark with hate. The leader. She knew him. Would always know him in her nightmares. He thought he had control over her. Believed he had beaten her down so she couldn’t fight him.
He was wrong.
Death would be her decision. Not his.
Avery lifted her face to the warm sun, closed her eyes, and stepped backward off the ledge.
****
From his perch in the open door of a Pave Hawk chopper, Retired PJ Senior Airman Quinn Wolff watched through high-powered binoculars as a small army of insurgents forced a woman off a sixty-foot ledge.
He caught a flash of red hair just before she plunged into the Ibi River.
With a curse he threw the binocs aside and grabbed his gloves. He jammed his hands into them. “Get me down there, Savat,” he hollered to the pilot through his headset. Quinn seized the rope and rose to a crouch. “That was her,” he told his two brothers who sat across from him.
Kell rose, bent at the waist to accommodate his six-foot-two height. One hand braced on the wall to keep from losing balance. “She’s in the river. We’re going to be recovering a body.”
The chopper banked a hard right. Quinn fixed a hand on the doorframe to avoid being tossed out. Dead or alive, he would pull her out of that river.
A bullet whistled beneath the chopper. Quinn’s gaze shot to the ridge where a handful of armed men aimed for them. Smart bastards had climbed higher while the others went low.
“No way in hell I can land in these mountains and those bullets are getting damn close.” Savat’s voice broke through the headset. “Can’t hover for long, either. Running on fumes here.”
Quinn’s fault. They’d spent the last two days combing these mountains in search of American humanitarian aid worker, Avery Marks. He had refused to quit today, his gut telling him she was close. Damn if he hadn’t been right, but now there were complications because of his stubbornness.
Ryan jumped behind the 50-caliber machine gun mounted outside the door. “On it,” he shouted, returning fire.
“Get your ass in gear, Quinn. Coming around now.”
The chopper made another sharp turn. Quinn fetched his rucksack and medical pack and hooked them to the bottom of the fifty-foot rope. Savat brought the aircraft to a hover downriver from where the woman went in. The army chasing her scrambled down the mountain. No problem as long as they didn’t have a SAM—Surface to Air Missile. That would complicate things.
He tossed the bags out. The weight straightened the rope, making for a lighter descent. Wind whipped his back as he leaned out the door and braced his feet on the edge, his weight balanced on the line held with one hand in front of him and one behind.
Kell shrugged into his ruck, shot him an irritated glance. “Damn it, Quinn. Hold up.”
Quinn didn’t need him on the ground. He needed him on the chopper holding off the army while he rescued the aid worker. He was a pararescueman. Saving people was what he did.
“Cover me.” He dropped out of sight before waiting for Kell to get into position.
****
Avery crawled out of the water, dragging herself across sharp rocks. They cut into her palms and left tiny ribbons of blood on the rocks. It took every ounce of strength she possessed to force her leaden limbs to carry her.
She’d survived the fall.
Nausea rose in her throat and she gagged. Water heaved from her stomach until she couldn’t breathe. Afterward, she collapsed and rolled onto her back, eyes closed. Her captor would be searching for her body. And wouldn’t it piss him off if he’d found her dead? The Azbak people honored death. Her captor refused to grant it to her, instead condemning her to a fate worse than death. All because she’d delivered books to the wrong village and taught the wrong girls to read. His girls.
Too tired to think about it, Avery gave herself two minutes. Then she’d move. Find somewhere to hole up. Right now she needed to catch her breath.
Something roared in her ears. Not the river. Above her.
She pried her eyelids open. A man descended from the sky. She watched him sail towards the ground. Big, strong, formidable. A hallucination? The river ran between two mountains and even in the summer the temperature didn’t rise above forty degrees. Hypothermia must be affecting her vision.
A shudder worked through her body. She was too worn-out to decide if he was a dream. But, she couldn’t stay here. Had to run. Keep going.
Don’t get caught.
The words of her friend and associate, Scott Travers, echoed through her head. Followed by images of a bullet hitting him as he tried to drive the SUV with her and Macy to safety while terrorists shot at them.