Hard to Kill (8 page)

"
He means nothing to me," she replied, keeping any show of emotion out of her voice. Which, for her, was relatively easy. Most men considered her a stone-cold bitch, void of emotion, even on a good day. Forced into a life/death situation, such as now, there wouldn't be so much as a telltale quiver. Petrovich had made sure of that.

While the guard was trying to figure out if she was telling the truth,
she launched the dagger. Dead on accurate—as always.

The man didn
't even know what hit him when the point severed his jugular vein. He stood motionless before collapsing onto the floor.

Kane brought his hand up to rub his cheeks
, as if trying to decipher the last few moments. Despite the darkness of the tunnel, Sabrina saw his eyes dart back and forth between her and the guy lying on the ground. Shrugging, he grabbed the guy's gun and pulled out the knife, wiping the excess blood on the man's shirt before handing it back to Sabrina.

"
I don't even want to know where you learned to do that. Because you know what, it doesn't matter. You saved my ass. That's all that matters."

"
Sure did."

"
I half expected you to abandon me on the spot."

"
Don't kid yourself. That was my Plan B."

"
I figured as much."

Despite the tenor of their conversation, he once again grasped her hand and headed toward the end.
They were so close—a soft breeze filtered inside. Freedom was palpable.

S
abrina allowed a sense of victory to overshadow her penchant for caution. For a second. Until a shiver along her spine alerted her seconds before the attack.

T
he larger of the two men went after Kane, the smaller after her. He lunged with a knife. To counteract the attack, she burst toward him with the weight of her body, deadening the arm holding the knife while striking his windpipe with a closed fist, collapsing his trachea.

Out of nowhere another man came at her, brin
ging her to the ground, forcing his thumbs around the front of her throat. Breathing became a struggle within seconds as stars burst inside her skull.

Pop.

Just when she'd thought she'd drawn her last breath, he tumbled on top of her. Pushing him aside, she looked up to see Kane standing with a gun.

"
Now we're even," he muttered.

"
I had things under control." Sabrina's head ached and nearly every bone in her body throbbed. But she'd come out of it alive, proving anything was possible.

While she couldn
't see a mirror, she figured she looked about the same or maybe a little worse than Kane. He had a deep bruise forming along the right side of his face and blood seeping out of a cut above his eye. He was holding his arm in a manner that made her believe he might have injured it. On top of all that, he was walking with a limp.

"
I have two questions. Do I look as bad as you? And what happened to your leg?"

"
I've seen you look better. And it's an ankle sprain. It will heal in a few days."

He smiled. For the very first time, Sabrina noted the dimples on both sides of his mouth.
Cute. Not that she noticed such things. 

Besides,
she wasn't certain this FBI agent had the same goals she did. Bringing Caitlyn home—that was all Sabrina needed to think about. Not official investigations, undercover agents, or what happened to Trinity once Caitlyn was safe and sound. And certainly not cute dimples.

The trees obscuring the sun gave way to an open clearing as they moved f
arther and farther away from the entrance of the tunnel. A slight breeze stirred the air around them. Miles of lush green hills were all she could see, except for the country road winding its way through. 

Was it divine intervention that brought that dilapidated pick-up truck into her vision? She couldn
't say for sure, but right now it seemed a good an exit strategy for what she had to do.

She eyed the truck as it made its way
around the curve. Favoring that leg the way he was, she could outrun him. As long as she stayed out of his reach, she'd have no trouble making her escape.

"
I know you're part of The Alliance, but where did you learn to do that stuff?" Kane asked, the words coming out in staccato breaths as he swayed toward her on his troubled ankle.

It was a question she wasn
't willing to answer. For anyone, let alone some FBI agent with an official agenda.

"
Here and there."

"
That's not an answer," he said, stepping closer.

She raised her chin, ignoring the masculine scent enveloping her. Testosterone, adrenaline, and spicy aftershave. For a woman with less willpower, it would be a heady combination.
"No. It's not."

  He stared at her for a long moment before he must have realized that was all he was going to get from her.
He glanced to the road. "Don't go off on your own. We're better off combining forces on this. Working for the FBI does have some perks."

She huffed out a breath.
"No thanks. I'm not interested in the FBI's perks."

He shifted his weight off his sore leg, leaning heavily on the other
, signaling defeat. "But you're in more danger than you think…"

His voice trailed off as
Sabrina sprinted away and hopped into the back of the open pick-up truck. Leaving him out of sight and out of mind.

Kane's leg gimped out when he tried to chase after her. What did she think she'd accomplish on her own? He'd been chasing Trinity for weeks now, and this agent from The Alliance thought she was going to just waltz in and…what? She'd asked where the girls went. Was she tracking one of the girls? Tracking Trinity? Whatever she was doing, it had ruined the slow, steady progress Kane had been making the last few weeks, gaining Marco's trust and following the chain of command up the ranks toward his ultimate goal: Trinity.  

Kane ran a ha
nd through his hair. Like Grace, he knew there were girls who were in trouble right now. But if he didn't get to Trinity, if he wasn't patient enough to follow the money to the top, as soon as one girl got away, another would take her place.

And he couldn
't let this woman jeopardize that no matter whom she worked for.

He watched the green blip travel across his cell phone screen, reporting her steady progress. Like it or not, he
'd hook back up with her soon. But for right now, he had no option but to sit down and call for help.  

"
Who is she?" Kane asked Ron, his friend at the Bureau. He didn't dare contact Nellis. No doubt the guy was still pissed.

"
Her name is Sabrina Shaw. And yes, she works for The Alliance. She's been with them for seven years. Typically does eight to ten missions a year at the average of fifty grand a mission. Emigrated from Serbia when she was twenty-two. Speaks German, French, Italian, Serbian, and some Czech. Lives in Manhattan. Her brother Jake works for The Alliance as well. Her other brother Max is a trader on Wall Street."

Kane whistled.
"That's some major dough. Doesn't need to play by the bureaucratic rules, and makes about four times as much as me. I need to find me a new job. Is she military trained?"

"Not as far as I can tell. Not sure where she got the street cred to hook up with The Alliance. They don't take just anybody."

"
Why is The Alliance involved? What's she doing here?"

"
You know that stuff is confidential, but it so happens that I have connections. And rumor has it she's doing a freebie for Mr. and Mrs. Collins to find their daughter Caitlyn, who they believe was abducted. The local police blew off their claim, citing the girl as a runaway."

"
Damn." Kane drew his hands through his hair again. "She's no runaway. They shipped that girl out the day I got there. I wasn't in on the deal so I have no clue where she was sent. You got anything else?"

"
Car should be at your location in about ten minutes. Can you hold out that long?"

"
Is there another option I don't know about?" Kane chuckled for the first time in what felt like years.

"
Guess not. What's your current plans?"

"
First? Find Ms. Shaw. If I had to guess, she's going after the thumb drive and Marco's client list. I need to be there when she gets it."

"
Lofty goal considering you don't know where she's headed."

"
I suspected she'd bolt, so I put a tracking device in the clothes I gave her. Sooner or later the fact that there's a substantial price on her head is going to catch up with her."

*  *  *

Sabrina stretched her legs and tried to make herself presentable. Her messy hair partially covered her face, which was good, since she probably still sported bruises on her cheek and forehead. Since she didn't have a brush, she finger-combed through her waves the best she could.

Sleeping in the hay of the farmer
's barn had been a necessity yesterday—maybe as a result of the drugs she'd been given, or maybe it was just pure exhaustion that had forced her body into hibernation. In the end, she had no choice but to bunk with the cows and horses.

It was a risky proposition stopping so close to Marco
's place, but with her head aching and her body trembling, she'd known she had no choice. Now, feeling refreshed, and alone, she was ready to figure out how to find Caitlyn.

The clothesline hanging next to the barn had been a
godsend. While most of the clothes were too large for her, she did manage to snag a sleeveless undershirt to wear under the long-sleeve camo shirt Kane had given to her. Of course, her first choice would have been a nice size 34B bra, but she made use with what was available.

S
he splashed water from a nearby stream on her face and arms, cleaning up as much as possible. Immediately, she felt more refreshed and rejuvenated than she had in several days.

She used acupressure points between her thumb and forefinger and in the indent just below her kneecap to relieve some of the aches and pains at various parts of her body, and tried to formulate a plan.
At this point, she was out of leads and out of everything else. But, at least in some ways, she was closer to finding Caitlyn. She knew where the girl had been kept. Now she needed to retrace the footsteps to find out where she'd been sent.

Everything hinged on getting back into Marco
's house and getting information from him about Caitlyn's whereabouts. As for the elusive Trinity, that was Kane's problem, not hers.  

Hitching a ride w
ould be easy. Besides, she didn't think she had the strength to walk the fifteen miles to the nearest town.

K
nowing Marco controlled the area around Langford, she opted for the opposite direction. Underestimating the far reach of his powers would be a mistake. But she had to take a chance. And she had to get moving. Antonio would be her best bet, but she needed to get to a phone.

The gun was secured in the waistband of her pants, covered by the shirt
that hit her mid-hip. The dagger remained in one of the pockets as her primary measure of security.

Never underestimate your opponent, Saby
. Petrovich's sage advice rung in her ears. Never trusting or believing anybody except her family had been the part of her core that kept her alive.

So w
hy did she find herself second-guessing cutting Kane loose? Sure, he might have been a little trouble, and she did prefer to work alone. But he was with the Bureau. That had to open some doors, free up the information highway, so to speak, especially since recovering Caitlyn wasn't part of her duties working for The Alliance. Confessing to her brothers what she'd been up to and asking them for help was a possibility, but there was little they could do from the States.

She
'd always been a take-charge, by-the-seat-of-her-pants kind of gal. This experience was no different. She still had her wits, wasn't without her own network of connections throughout Europe, and had an ache in her gut that couldn't or wouldn't be willed away. The toughest part was being in this area brought up memories of Petrovich. He'd been her savior and her nightmare rolled into one.

*  *  *

When Sabrina hit the streets of town, people were milling about, stopping for coffee or lunch at local cafes. The weather was brisk and the clothes she had on were doing little to prevent the cool breeze that had set in.

But she needed money.
Without a credit card, or a passport, or a phone, there was only one way to acquire it. She needed a mark.

For survival, she and her brothers relied on pickpocketing as a means to an end when they
'd lost their parents. By the time she was eight, she had out-mastered her brothers. They said it was her innocent appearance rather than skill that allowed her to be so efficient. But she suspected they were jealous. After they had been taken in by Petrovich, her skill level had only increased. Even though she swore she'd never fall back on pickpocketing, the old adage about never saying never came to mind. Right now it was a means to an end.

T
ourists were always the mark of choice. They normally carried more money and were also more distracted, spending time enjoying the nuances of the culture rather than worrying about their wallets.

She sca
nned the crowd looking for prey:
Nope, too old. Nope, too young. Nope, too poor
—the guy looked as if he hadn't had a good meal in weeks.

Finally, she spotted
an excellent mark. She couldn't tell if he was a tourist or not, which probably meant he wasn't, but he fit the other criteria she was looking for.

Distracted by the ramblings of a teenager who seemed
bent on making her very existence a drain on anyone within earshot, the guy might very well be perfect. His daughter—or at least Sabrina hoped she was his daughter rather than a very young girlfriend—had blue hair and more visible piercings than she'd seen in quite a while, even by Greenwich Village standards. The girl whined and pointed into a storefront window with all the theatrics of a six-year-old wanting the newest shiny new toy. Dad nodded and feigned interest as he tried to encourage the girl to move on.

Sabrina moved next to the couple, gazing at the display.
It took her less than a second to understand the reason behind the terrified look in the dad's eyes.

The window display held an array of clothes bordering on obscene.
Sprinkles of bright satin colors of fuchsia and purple were mixed with black satin and lace attached to dresses that had an erotically Gothic twist. Deep, plunging necklines and thigh-high slits bordered on the perverse in a combination that could only be described as the No-Daughter-of-Mine-Will-Ever-Wear-That Display. 

She almost felt a little bad at the idea of lifting his wallet. The guy had more than enough on his plate with a rebellious teen, but right now she didn
't have a choice but to follow through with her plan. Nerves skittered along the surface as she flexed her fingers to relieve the building tension.

Listening to their one-sided conversation, conducted in French,
Sabrina tsked and uttered a "Mon Dieu" in support of dad even while she slipped her fingers inside his pocket to relieve him of his wallet.

She moved
away discreetly. After turning the corner, she flipped open the wallet, snatched the money she would need, and tossed the Italian leather to the cobblestone sidewalk, where hopefully it would be found and returned.

She
stuffed the euros inside her pocket. While it wasn't much, it was enough for until she could hook up with Antonio, who could score her a fake passport and loan her some money.

Even though
it was a little indulgent, she bought a pair of tennis shoes to replace the too-big-for-her boots Kane had confiscated. As if her stomach knew she had some money, it began to rumble. She purchased some food at a local pub and gobbled it down. As she paid the man behind the bar, she contemplated her next step—finding a car to hotwire. 

Eyeing the phone in the corner, she
walked over and dialed Antonio. He lived close, with a residence in Northern Italy, and he had enough money and firepower to set her up for what she needed to do.

Damn it. No answer.

Didn't people carry their cell phones with them all the time? She left a message, but without a number at which to reach her, she'd have to keep trying.

As she hung up the phone, she became more aware of the quiet surrounding her. I
t took her a few seconds to realize the hum of conversation had dissipated, with only occasional whispers breaking through the silence.

When she
glanced around, all eyes were riveted on her. They held some kind of paper in her their hands and were pointing to it, then looking at her. Uh oh. This was going to get ugly.

"
That's her, isn't it?" one of them shouted from the back as they all started to converge.

She
eased outside with as much finesse as she could muster, given that half the local population seemed to be nipping at her heels. Armed with nothing but their bodies and a will to subdue her, she had a fighting chance.

Certainly she could outrun a bunch of middle
-aged men going soft in the middle. She hit the street desperate for an escape.

But it
was hard to think when a mob of angry Austrians was in hot pursuit. Luckily she spotted a pick-up truck idling outside a store with the owner nowhere in sight. Backed into a corner, she couldn't get picky. It was a crime of opportunity.

With only a vague sense of where she needed to go except as far away from the crowd as possible, she
let out the clutch and pressed the gas pedal to the floor. The old truck swerved on the uneven pavement until she was able to regain control.

A shot of adrenaline gave her the boost she needed until she glanced at the gas gauge. An eighth of a tank? She banged on the dashboard.
"Are you frickin' kidding me?"

She blew out a breath and reined in her fear.
Calm down. This is doable
. Even with that miniscule amount of gas, she should be able to get far enough away to work on a Plan B.

Feeling much more calm, she glanced
into the rearview mirror. Instead of reassurance, her pulse rate shot through the roof when she spotted a pick-up filled to the brim with men carrying rifles. The locals must have called in reinforcements with guns. But why?