Shadows and Silk (29 page)

The orange sun blazed just over the tops of the trees, but it would disappear completely
in another twenty minutes. By the time it was gone, she’d have the flash drive in
hand and already be across the border to Venezuela.

Grace did one final check of all her equipment and took a deep, steadying breath,
slowing her heartbeat so her pulse would be in time with each shot. She’d hit the
sentry at the top of the Vasquez compound first and then take the rest in order from
left to right. She pushed her feet against the tree for balance. The clock ticked
in the background of her mind as she put the slightest amount of pressure on the trigger.

“One,” she whispered. She didn’t wait to watch him fall, but moved to the next target.
Five seconds until the report from her rifle reached their ears. Five seconds for
five more kills.

Two…

Three…

Four…

Five…

Six…

Grace didn’t stop to check the accuracy of her shots. She never missed. She hung her
rifle on a tree branch, already missing the feel of it in her hands. Time was of the
essence now, and she couldn’t afford to be burdened with too much equipment. The new
guards would be driving up soon for the shift change, and she had to be long gone
by then.

She took the crossbow she’d hung on another branch, lined it up with the tree that
hovered over the roof of the compound, and fired. The bolt buried itself deep in the
tree, and she held tight to the crossbow as the cable attached to the bolt threatened
to jerk out of her hands. She pulled until the cable was taut and secured the crossbow
in the crook of two sturdy branches, tying it down with rope from her bag just to
be safe. Falling to her death wouldn’t bring her the money she needed.

Fifteen minutes until all hell broke loose.

Grace slipped on her harness and clipped herself to the cable. She pushed off from
the sturdy branch that had been her refuge that afternoon and soared through the treetops
like a phantom. And when her momentum died, she put hand over hand on the cable and
pulled herself with pure strength to the compound roof.

The body of the first sentry she’d shot lay face down in the greenish-blue water of
the swimming pool. A hazy cloud of blood ballooned from under him, and his arms and
legs floated like waving ribbons.

Her eyes and ears were alert, but all that greeted her was growing darkness and silence.
Even the animals and birds in the jungle knew bad shit was about to go down.

Grace unhooked the harness and pulled her Sig from a thigh holster. She stood silently
next to the gray door that led from the roof down a set of stairs to the main floors
of the house. Two heartbeats passed before she opened the door and slipped inside.
It was quiet, but that wasn’t unusual at this time of the day according to her
intel
—six sentries on duty surrounding the compound, only two guarding Vasquez’s private
suite of rooms.

Vasquez’s stupidity only made her job easier.

Grace walked silently down the thickly carpeted hallway as if she weren’t about to
steal the schematics for a new super weapon—a weapon that used state of the art laser
technology—and sell it to another country. But the closer she got to Vasquez, the
more her spine tingled in awareness that something was wrong. That tingle had saved
her life more than once, and she never ignored it. The hallway opened up into a landing
just as she reached Vasquez’s private rooms. Weak light filtered through the windows
and cast rainbows as it pierced the glass chandelier that hung overhead.

She saw firsthand exactly why her spine was tingling.

Both sentries were slumped against each other—a dead man’s embrace—one with a broken
neck and the other with a hunting knife in his carotid.
Efficient work considering the size of the sentries.

She pushed the bodies out of her way with her foot and eased the door open, her finger
on the trigger of her Sig. All that mattered was the flash drive. If she didn’t produce
it then she didn’t get paid.

The smells of new death were thick and cloying in the heat, and she could taste the
fresh blood in the back of her throat with every breath she took. Dust mites danced
in the air and long shadows were cast in the fading sunlight.

Grace waited for her eyes to adjust and listened for sounds of footsteps, but all
she heard was the gentle whir of the wicker fans that rotated slowly on the ceiling.
She moved silently, staying close to the wall as she checked each room.

Vasquez’s bedroom was bigger than her whole apartment—the furniture oversized and
ornate—the colors garishly red. He was set up for sex.
The interesting kind of sex by the looks of it.
Restraints and various whips and other tools lined one whole wall, and torn condom
packages littered the floor. It looked like Vasquez had had a busy morning. Too bad
his afternoon hadn’t turned out so hot.

Gemino
Vasquez’s body laid spread eagle on his bed. He was naked, and his eyes were open
and unseeing. A single gunshot wound to the heart bled sluggishly. He hadn’t been
dead long. She couldn’t stop the bitter disappointment when she saw the flash drive
was gone from the chain on his right wrist.

“Dammit,” she whispered and moved to check the covers of his bed just to make sure
it hadn’t come off in the struggle. But she knew in her heart it was long gone. She
knew the signs of a professional hit, and this job reeked of it. What pissed her off
even more was that whoever did it managed to sneak in right under her nose. He had
to have known she was watching and snuck in through the one blind spot she had at
the back of the compound.

The stir of air behind her was the only warning she had as an arm locked around her
throat.

“Looking for this?” a deep voice whispered in her ear, holding the flash drive in
front of her face.

He pressed close against her back and squeezed his arm tighter around her throat so
she had to breathe shallowly through her nose. Grace winced as he pressed his fingers
against the pressure points of her wrist and her pistol fell uselessly to the floor
with a dull thunk. 

Fear never had a chance to take hold. It was anger that drove Grace.
Anger that had kept her alive the last couple of years.
And she knew how to wield it. She threw her head back and aimed her heel at his knee
simultaneously. He dodged her blows as if he’d been expecting them, but the distraction
was enough for him to loosen his grip. She swept her leg and brought him to his knees,
reaching down for the knife in her boot. The knife gleamed once in the fading sunlight
just before it was knocked out of her hand and across the room.

He outweighed her by close to eighty pounds, and he had a good eight inches on her
in height. They grappled and rolled, each one blocking the other’s strikes with only
seconds to spare. It was a
well choreographed
dance.

A familiar dance.

The surprise of recognition took her off guard, and she looked up into laughing blue
eyes framed by thick, dark lashes she’d always been jealous of. She had time to register
that he’d let his hair grow—a shaggy mane of ink black that curled just over his ears
and collar, and a face that was covered in a short, stubbled beard—just before her
legs went out from under her. She hit the carpet with a thud. A hard body pressed
her into the floor, and he held her wrists captive above her head.

“Hello, Grace.” His breath whispered against her skin, and she couldn’t stop her traitorous
body from reacting to his familiar scent. Her nipples hardened and she arched against
him. “You’ve been practicing. Who’s your new sparring partner?”

“What do you want, Gabe?” She tried to act as if his growing erection against her
thigh wasn’t having any effect, but she could tell by the way he shifted against her
that her attempt failed. She bit her lip to stifle a moan as he pressed against the
very heat of her. He knew exactly how to weaken her resolve. They’d always been able
to read each other much too well.

“I want you, of course.” His lips glanced across her cheek to the corner of her mouth,
and she sucked in a breath that brought her body even closer to his. After everything
he’d done, he was still the only man who could make her feel less than whole when
their bodies weren’t fused together. She hated him for it. She hated herself for it.

“Go to hell.” She struggled against him, but he just shifted his weight to hold her
down.

“I’ve been there,
thanks
. Christ you feel good. Stop wiggling and we’ll talk. Don’t you want to at least hear
my offer?”

She stilled her body and relaxed, hoping he’d get distracted long enough for her to
make a move. “I don’t want anything you have to offer. Just give me the flash drive.”

“I figure we have exactly four minutes to get out of this place before the new guards
show up for the shift change and Armageddon begins. All I’m asking is that you come
back with me and listen to my offer. If you hear me out and still turn me down, then
I’ll give you the flash drive with no hard feelings, and you can claim your bounty.”

Grace stared at him and tried to decide if he was bluffing. “I don’t trust you.”

“You never have. But what I’m offering will pay you more than double any of the jobs
you’ve recently taken. Just hear me out.”

“Fine. Just move your hard-on and let’s get the hell out of here.”

“
Darlin
’, I have scars on my back from the last time you asked me to move my hard-on. Be
careful what you wish for.”

“You son of a bitch.”

“So you’ve told me before. Let’s go before Vasquez’s men get here. I’ve got a pick
up scheduled in twenty on the other side of the border.”

Grace had no choice but to follow him out of one hell and into another.

***

The woman hadn’t changed a bit in seven years. She still kept her deep auburn hair
braided tightly down her back while she was working. But he knew what it looked like
spread across his pillow, and he knew what it felt like as it slithered like silk
across his chest—glorious. He couldn’t have helped his body’s instant arousal at the
touch of her if he’d wanted to.

He looked at her critically, trying to decipher exactly why his cock always stood
at full attention when she was near. It wasn’t just one thing, but the entire package.
Her face was thinner now—her cheekbones more pronounced—but it was still the face
of a sea goddess. Eyes the color of emeralds, slightly tilted at the corners, and
full lips that he’d dreamed about for the past two years. She was every desire he’d
ever had wrapped in one tiny package.

He let his gaze drift down her body. She was thinner all over. The lush curves that
had haunted his memory were gone, replaced by a compact body of pure muscle and athleticism.
She glanced back at him and raised her brow at where his eyes were glued.

Gabe smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He’d been wrong. She’d changed a lot. There
was
a hardness
about her now that hadn’t been there before. When she’d first started with the CIA
there had been hope and an ideal of the greater good. Now there was just emptiness—a
cold green stare that didn’t believe in anything, and it scared the hell out of him.
Because it was no one’s fault but his own.

“We’ve just crossed the border into Venezuela by my calculations,” she said, slowing
to a jog. “How much farther is your rendezvous point?”

“About another mile. Keep the sound of water to your immediate left.” He put his hand
on her arm before she could take off again. “Wait.”

She stopped dead in her tracks, and Gabe could tell she was trying to hear what he
had. They were silent for a few more seconds before the sound came again.

“Shit,” she said. “It’s the new guards. You always did have ears like a bat.”

“What do you have on you?”

“My Sig and a hunting knife. How many do you think there are?”

“No more than a dozen. They’re noisy bastards. And not too fast.” He pulled his own
pistol from the small of his back and checked the clip. “I’ll give you a boost.” He
replaced his weapon in his pants and laced his fingers together. He arched a brow
as she just stared at him.

“I’m really tired of trees.” She blew out a breath and put her foot into his hands.
He launched her up so she could reach the lowest branch and she swung herself up like
a monkey.

“Do you have good visibility?” Gabe asked.

“Yeah, I see them. You’ll have to draw them close enough so I’m within range.”

“Try not to hit me by mistake.”

“Oh, it wouldn’t be a mistake,” she said.

Gabe smiled and left her
there
to go meet trouble head on. He found cover behind a tree trunk the size of a small
car and waited patiently. Heavy footsteps crunched over twigs, and he stuck out his
foot as two of them passed by. One of the guards tripped and went sprawling to the
ground, and Gabe struck out at the other with a palm to the chest, stopping his heart
instantly. He broke the neck of the one who was already down before the man could
rise up off his knees.