Code Red (3 page)

“Let them walk,” Kieran yelled. “They’ve got
nothing to do with this.”

The man ignored him and stepped closer. The
glaring headlights obscured her complete view, but she could make
out the gun still aimed in her direction and her heart sped up
until it almost exploded in her chest. No one had ever pointed a
gun at her—except her cousin Randy, but that one wasn’t loaded and
he was just being an ass. This guy seemed ready, willing, and able
to kill.

Adam shoved her behind him. Another man
approached from the side, forcing him to choose between the
attackers. He chose wrong. He moved to strike the one coming up on
the side and ended up clubbed by the flashlight of the other guy.
Blood sprayed from his nose, and he fell to the ground. Muffled
moans sounded, and then one of the men kicked him in the face.
Soon, only the sounds of the van engine and the shuffling of other
feet could be heard.

Jess’s throat tightened into a twisted knot
that made it difficult to breathe. She tried to run to Adam, but
someone lifted her up and over his shoulder. Her adrenaline kicked
in and she hollered and screamed and tried to fight, but her captor
didn’t even flinch as she kicked him over and over.

Adam lay motionless on the ground. She shut
her eyes to the image just before she was thrown into the van like
a rag doll. Her head slammed into the other door. Pain shot through
her skull from the back of her head to her eyeballs, sobering her
up as sickness flooded her stomach. The van moved, and someone
pulled her arms behind her back and tied her to the seat. Kieran
and Max were both tied up behind her.

She continued to scream, in case Adam could
hear her and wake up and save her.

“Shut up or you’ll be gagged,” someone said
in a low gruff voice.

She shut up. Someone covered her head with a
cloth sack. She couldn’t see and now felt like she couldn’t
breathe. Several men started speaking in a foreign language,
probably Russian. Her head hurt like hell. She should have sat with
Carter and his shoe fetish or stayed home and plotted her escape
from Ohneka.

***

Kieran relaxed his arms in order to prevent
his twisted shoulders from cramping. Whoever had tied him up left
no room to twist his hands free.

How the hell did this get
so messed up so fast?

The mission had been to pick up Mark Weld, a
CIA officer, in exchange for Max Glazkov, a fat, lazy Russian
operative who didn’t care which side he worked for as long as he
had food and an available woman, consent not necessary. Mark had
been caught a year ago leaking the names of Russian dissidents
arrested by the Kremlin to the Western press from his apartment in
Moscow. His arrest had stayed out of the news, but massive efforts
had been made by the US government to free him. Unfortunately,
Kieran hadn’t seen Mark in the van before they’d covered his head
with the hood. He had, however, caught a glimpse of Red struggling
against one of the men handling the exchange.

Not an exchange. A
kidnapping.

Kieran had run seven of these operations
successfully. This would have been his last before retiring. Now,
not only would he fail to bring the US officer home, he’d involved
an innocent woman and a bartender who appeared to be seriously
injured or dead. Where the hell was his backup team? They were
supposed to follow in an unmarked car to provide support. The
mission from the minute Red entered the bar was FUBAR.

One of the men called to Max in Russian,
“Welcome back, Glazkov. Are you ready to begin working again, or do
you need more of a vacation while we fix your mistakes?”

“I have missed you, too, Kozar.” Max sounded
nervous. No way would he want to be repatriated via a scandal. If
the two governments became embroiled in an argument over the proper
method of extraction, Max could only lose.

“You will be debriefed before the flight
home. I think your time with us has ended. Did you know your
codename is ‘Useless’?”

Max didn’t respond. Retirement for someone
who’d spent twenty years infiltrating every department of a major
defense contractor generally involved a wooden casket in lieu of a
gold watch.

Kieran couldn’t hear Red and hoped she
remained calm and silent. They had no real reason to keep her but
wouldn’t let her walk away if she learned too much.

He closed his covered eyes and listened,
understanding everything the men said in Russian though he had
never shared his knowledge of the language with anyone outside the
agency. Even his ex-wife had been oblivious to his ability. Keeping
secrets was his job—and the reason he wanted to leave it. Lies
destroyed those around him and ate at his own soul as well. If it
wasn’t for the people he’d helped along the way, he’d have quit
years ago.

So far he had learned the names of three of
his captors, Dmitriyev, Kozar, and Tim, perhaps short for
Timoshkin. The driver hadn’t spoken, and no one spoke to him. The
name he recognized was Dmitriyev, a brilliant assassin trained and
owned by the FSB, a counterintelligence group out of Moscow. No one
could describe the man’s appearance; no one had ever seen him. If
he was truly in the van, Max was a dead man and Kieran and Red
might be dead soon as well.

The van had been traveling on the main
highway for a while—Kieran was unsure how long—then turned left
down a dirt road. When it stopped, three doors opened. He heard the
Russians including Max leave, shutting the doors behind them.

He waited for a few minutes and then
spoke.

“Are you all right, Red?” He could hear her
slow, shallow breaths. “Red?”

“I’m okay, but Adam’s hurt. Really bad. It’s
all my fault.” Her voice trembled. “Maybe he’s dead.”

“Even a small head wound can bleed like a
river. He’ll be fine. Try to remain calm. They should realize you
have nothing to do with this soon. They’ll let you go.”

He hoped.

“Who are they?”

“You don’t need to know anything except that
they want Max, not you.”

“Why did they take you?”

“I have no idea.” He honestly didn’t have a
clue why they’d taken Red or him. Something had to have happened
with Mark, but so far, no one had mentioned Mark’s name.

“Who are you?” Red whispered before short
sobs escaped her throat.

“Kieran Brody. And you are?”

“Jessica Wonder.”

“Wonder?”

“Yes, it’s a ridiculous last name, but it’s
all I have left of my parents.” She broke down again, and her
breathing became punctuated by sniffling and hiccups.

For a second, Kieran transformed the woman’s
name to Jessica Brody. It would have been a nice thought if they
weren’t tied up and seconds from meeting an assassin. Focus or die.
The sobbing Jess in front of him was a liability. The men who had
taken her would most likely shoot her to restore peace and quiet.
Red—or at least her feisty personality from the bar—would have a
better chance of survival.

“I don’t know. It seems like a nice last
name,” he said. “Sure suits you. Since we’ve met, I’ve been
wondering why you’re so self-destructive.”

Her trembling voice steadied.
“Self-destructive?”

“Throwing yourself at Max when he looks like
a serial killer. You should have sat on my lap. I understand how to
treat a lady.”

She stopped talking, but Kieran could hear
her inhalations. Slower, more stable. She needed fire inside of her
to eradicate the fear.

He continued, “I guess you didn’t think a guy
like me would be interested in someone like yourself.”

“A guy like you?” Her anger grew, and the
sobs stopped. “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t like to brag, but I usually have a
woman eating out of my palm within minutes of meeting her. I must
intimidate you.”

“No one intimidates me,” Red growled.

Such bravado. Kieran had to bite his lip to
stop from laughing with satisfaction. “Good. When these guys
return, they may take off the eye covers. If they do, I need you to
focus on me at all times. If I smile, you smile. If I remain
silent, so do you. Understand?”

“Why?”

“Just do it. If I wink at you, you act like
my girlfriend. Not my prostitute.”

Her voice hardened “I am not—”

“Exactly. If I frown at you, keep your
distance. I haven’t seen their intentions yet, and I’m not sure
which way will help you more. Just follow my instructions and you
should be fine.”

The door opened again, and Kieran heard
someone talking about Mark and an accident. Which meant Mark was
dead. They didn’t have anyone to trade, so they’d grabbed Max,
panicked, and taken him and Red as well.

They lifted off his hood, and Kieran could
see the back of Red’s fiery hair. Two men untied them and pushed
them into an old barn. The barn was empty except for some bales of
moldy hay and two long wooden benches. He and Red were tied to a
post next to each other on one of the bales.

Max sat on a bench being questioned by
someone. Dmitriyev. The man never lowered his voice, and Kieran
listened. The frequent assumption that stupid Americans know only
one language had helped him become one of the more successful
negotiators in the field. He listened to the Russians speaking and
finally understood why he’d been taken.

“Weld is dead, so we cannot make a transfer,
and you, my friend, have outlasted your utility to the
organization.”

“I’ll get you any information you need.” Max
sounded panicked. He should be. He sucked at his job.

“You don’t understand two things, Glazkov.”
Dmitriyev dropped his voice enough that the other Russians in the
room probably couldn’t hear him. “One, you’ve already been
replaced. And two, once I collect on your death, I’m headed south
to Venezuela. I prefer beaches and beautiful women to cold climates
and dusty office buildings. Everything’s set.”

Kieran saw the assassin point his gun at Max
then, so he curled his torso into Red’s and kissed her. She
appeared shocked but kissed him back with only a slight hesitation.
Kieran didn’t stop. He deepened the kiss and didn’t allow her to
break for air. She gasped and tried to pull away but he persisted.
Then he heard the shot.

Red flinched. Kieran kept kissing her, partly
to hide Max’s assassination from her for as long as possible,
partly to comfort her. And a small part of him wanted to stay
absorbed in this incredible woman’s aura for a few more minutes
until reality crashed down on them.

***

He was kissing her. People had pointed guns
at her, kidnapped her, tied her up in an old barn, and this
smooth-talking guy thought now was the best time to kiss her. He
must be crazy.

His kiss, however, was amazing.

A gunshot exploded somewhere in the barn, but
Kieran’s mouth wouldn’t release hers. Jess panicked and pulled
back, but his head stayed in front of hers, blocking her view of
the room.

“I guess we’ve decided you’re my girlfriend.
I’m a pretty lucky guy.” His hushed voice was deep, sexy, and calm.
She could also hear lots of movement and men speaking Russian in
front of her.

“What happened? There was a gunshot.”

“Don’t look. Keep those beautiful eyes locked
on mine. I hope you’re not in a relationship with anyone else. I
like my girlfriends monogamous.”

“I’m not your girlfriend. I’m single for
life.” She hated the disgust that spewed from her mouth when she
spoke about Robert, but he was an ass and she hated him for it,
even if he was dead.

“I doubt that. You’ll meet the right guy
someday, and he won’t take no for an answer.”

His face remained in front of hers, and his
breath smelled sweet from the soda he’d had at the bar. She tried
to breathe him in, but her throat had tightened after the gunshot
and her stomach was revolting from her excessive drinking coupled
with stress.

“No,” she said. “My Mr. Right will move to
another city, leave me in limbo for years and have a little girl in
a pink dress with the woman he really loves.” Her body shook. From
detailing Robert’s deception or the guns being fired around her?
Probably both.

Kieran leaned forward and kissed her again.
Soft this time, nothing forced. “No. A real man would keep you
close and never let you go. I guarantee it.”

“Mr. Brody, it is time.” One of the goons
suddenly pulled Kieran back and left her with a perfect view of the
room. Jess screamed. Max had to be dead, because half of his head
was sprayed all over the floor and one wall of the barn. An hour or
two ago, she’d flirted with him in the bar.

Bile crawled up her throat, and she turned
away from the image of his dead body to vomit. Her shaking morphed
into intense tremors and her insides chilled. She pulled on her
arms, but the rope binding her wrists wouldn’t budge. She continued
to struggle, even if it was futile. Blood covered everything. Even
when she shut her eyes, the blood remained.

Wanting a life away from her small town
didn’t mean she wanted to live inside an action movie. Maybe a
house in the suburbs, a trip to the ocean… Anything but this. The
men surrounded Kieran. They untied his hands and pointed a gun at
his head. They couldn’t kill him, though. She couldn’t handle it.
She couldn’t handle Max’s death.

She cried out, trying to gain control of a
situation she had no control over. Someone slapped her hard across
the jaw. The sharp pain brought tears to her eyes and knocked the
panic back inside of her, where she swallowed it and tried not to
make a sound. Her focus, however, circled back to the blood and the
gun pointed at Kieran.

“It is regrettable you killed Glazkov in his
attempted escape. We cannot make the switch now,” the older man
said to Kieran.

“The government will take my word over
yours.”

“No. The residue will show that you not only
killed Max in his escape attempt, but you also killed an innocent
girl who got in the way.”