Shades of Gray (11 page)

“What’s so top secret?” Cole asked.

“Don’t be a smart-ass,” Steele said sharply. “I need you to have your head on straight
if you’re going to be a part of this.”

Cole frowned. “Wait just a damn minute.”

Steele pinned him with his forceful gaze. “No,
you
wait a minute. Don’t act like you haven’t gone to shit in the last months. You look
like something the cat dragged in. You’ve lost weight. You look like you haven’t slept
in a month. You won’t do P.J. a damn bit of good if you can’t perform your function
within the team. We don’t need a goddamn hero, Cole. What we need is an efficient
team to go in and take care of business without allowing our emotions to rule.”

Cole wanted to argue. Damn but he wanted to tell Steele to shove it up his ass, but
his team leader was right and Cole knew it.

“I get it,” Cole said gruffly. “I’m in. You aren’t doing this without me.”

Steele held up a finger. “The only reason I’m letting you in on this is because I
know if I sideline you, you’ll only go off on your own and then you’ll get in the
way. I’m not losing P.J. and I’m damn well not losing you either. I’m keeping this
team together if it kills me.”

Cole sobered and then turned away to stare over the lake. “I hope we’re not too late,
Steele.”

Steele sighed. “Yeah, me too.”

“I want this bastard. I want him to pay for what he did to P.J. But more than that,
I just want her back home, with us. With the team.”

“I get it,” Steele said quietly. “And she will be. I told her what she could do with
her resignation.”

Cole chuckled. And then he glanced Steele’s way. “You’re not the robot everyone accuses
you of, you know.”

Steele’s expression could have frozen lava. “Don’t start thinking I have a heart,
Coletrane. I just don’t want to have to start over and train a new recruit.”

Cole stifled a smile. Yeah. Whatever.

CHAPTER 19

SLOVAKIA, SURVEILLANCE DAY TWO

SWEAT
rolled down P.J.’s sides, making the thin camo shirt she wore cling to her flesh.
She was absolutely still, barely breathing as she waited, just as she’d waited for
the last twenty-four hours, for the right opportunity to present itself.

She was patient. She’d often spent long hours in the field on sniper watch. Some missions
had been drawn out for days, and she and Cole had been partners in the silence. Unable
to communicate or even acknowledge the other’s presence in any way, but it had been
comforting to know she wasn’t alone.

That wasn’t the case now. She didn’t have Cole as her partner. She didn’t have her
team to back her up. She was flying solo straight into the lion’s den.

She was smart enough to be scared, but she refused to allow that fear to paralyze
her and make her helpless and weak. Never again.

She held her breath as she stared through the binoculars to the residence below. Two
armored cars had arrived, and she watched as Brumley got out on one side. Nelson got
out on the other and looked around, his gaze obviously searching for any threat.

You won’t find me, bastard. Not until I’m ready.

Brumley went in, surrounded by his guards. It would be so easy to pick the asshole
off with her sniper rifle. But it was too easy. She wanted him to suffer, and she
wanted her face to be the last he saw right before he died. So he’d know it was her
and that she’d made him pay for his sins.

Nelson lagged behind, lighting a cigarette as Brumley entered the house.

P.J. smiled. Arrogant assholes. They thought the high fence and million-dollar security
and surveillance protected them from the outside world. That she couldn’t come in.
That they were safe.

They were wrong.

She eased from her hiding place, making sure the silencer was attached to her gun
properly and that the knife Brumley had used on her was in her grip.

Over the past months, she’d spent a frustrating amount of time frequenting places
that Brumley was rumored to enjoy. She’d gone through every penny of her savings to
support her search for the men who’d raped her.

And it was worth being dirt-poor for the rest of her life if she accomplished her
mission.

She pulled out a handheld PC and quickly typed in a series of commands. Donovan wasn’t
the only one handy with computers. They just bored her to tears.

In the first hour of her surveillance she’d hacked into the estate’s security monitoring
system. It had been a piece of cake. It baffled her that with as much money as Brumley
threw around, he’d actually have such a pussy surveillance system.

She programmed the system to replay the tapes of the last four hours, ending before
the procession of cars arrived. She’d only have two hours before they’d know something
was up, because the sun would start to sink and dusk would be upon her.

Two hours to get in and kill the men responsible for the scars on her body and the
damage to her soul.

She’d had less time to perform a mission before. This one wasn’t any different. Objective
must be achieved. She told herself that over and over.

She darted toward the house, keeping behind cover so she wouldn’t be spotted through
one of the windows. Nelson was still out front smoking his damn cigarette, and that
wasn’t where she’d wanted to confront him. But he didn’t show signs of moving elsewhere,
so she’d have to do the job there and make it fast instead of making him suffer the
long, drawn-out death she wanted.

When she reached the house, she put her back to the stone exterior and inched her
way toward the front where Nelson stood.

“What the h—”

P.J. whirled around at the voice and squeezed off a round before the man could shout
a warning. He fell to the ground with a loud thump.

Shit! The bastard had lucked onto her and had come in from behind. What the hell was
he even doing there? Had Brumley ordered his men to patrol the exterior of the house?
Did Brumley realize by now that she was hunting him?

She hoped to hell she was keeping him up at night. That he lived in fear of when she
would get to him. It wasn’t a matter of if. It was when.

Her heart was pounding as she peeked around the corner again. Nelson was still there,
but he’d just taken a last drag, tossing aside the butt as he blew out a cloud of
smoke.

She shuddered, remembering the stench of tobacco on him while he’d pushed his body
onto hers. Before she lost her courage, she rounded the corner, gun in one hand and
knife in the other.

As much as it pained her to make his death quick, she was going to have to cut her
losses and take Nelson out so she could get to her prime objective. Brumley.

“Nelson,” she called out, wanting the bastard to face her and at least know who would
claim his death.

He swiveled, his expression a mixture of what-the-fuck and fear.

The sound of the front door opening jerked P.J.’s attention from Nelson long enough
to see that she’d been made.

A gunshot sounded and pain lashed through P.J.’s leg. Stupid motherfucker couldn’t
aim for shit.

She squeezed off a shot, downing the guy who came out the door. Then she turned rapidly
to Nelson, who was attempting to flee. She shot him in the back of the leg, just to
slow him down, and then she turned her attention back to the front entrance.

When two more men appeared, she dove behind one of the armored cars, ignoring the
screaming agony in her leg and the smell of blood.

In the distance, Nelson lay on the ground writhing in pain, shouting curses and orders
for someone to give him cover.

Hoping they were temporarily distracted by Nelson’s rantings, she pushed herself upward,
leaning on the car, and got three shots off. She ducked back down and then peered
underneath the car toward the steps. One of the men was lying motionless, half down
the steps, his leg dangling in the shrubbery.

She couldn’t see the other, which meant he was either on top of her or he’d run back
inside.

She glanced down at her leg and swore as she saw all the blood soaking her pants.
It was just a flesh wound. A clean through and through. Thank God the bullet hadn’t
hit bone or she wouldn’t be walking.

Pain she could handle.

She picked herself up again, took a clip out and shoved another in.

“Come get me, fuckers,” she bit out.

There were six unaccounted for. A total of ten men had arrived, including Nelson and
Brumley. Three were dead and Nelson was on the ground whimpering like a baby.

A loud roar sounded. P.J.’s brow wrinkled and then she realized it was a chopper starting
up. Son of a bitch. Brumley was escaping.

Throwing caution straight down the toilet, she bolted from behind the car and ran
for the front entrance. She passed the one dead guy on the steps and nearly tripped
over the second guy who’d shot at her.

He was lying just inside the foyer, eyes wide open in death. Now there were only five
unaccounted for. She was relieved to know she still had good aim.

Teeth clenched to ward off the pain, she shuffled as fast as her injured leg would
allow through the house, gun up, clearing each room she hurried through.

When she got to the back enclosure, she saw the helicopter lift into the air.

“No!”

Goddamn it. She couldn’t lose him. Not when she’d been this close.

She dashed through the doorway and raised her gun, squeezing off shot after shot at
the departing helicopter. Through the glass, she saw Brumley. Made eye contact with
him. The bastard actually looked at her and gave her a cocky two-finger salute.

She took another shot, even knowing it was pointless. She fired until she was out
of ammo and then let her arms fall to her sides. She closed her eyes in bitter disappointment.

Failed.

She turned, having to drag her leg. It was growing more numb all the time, and as
the adrenaline wore off, the pain became more unbearable.

There was still Nelson to contend with.

She popped in another clip and limped through the house, delighting in the fact that
she’d tracked blood all over the posh furnishings. When she walked back out the front,
she saw Nelson trying to drag himself to one of the cars.

Stupid fuck.

Unlike the idiot who shot her, she’d placed her bullet so it shattered his leg. He
didn’t have a prayer of walking anywhere.

She holstered her pistol and then opened the knife. The blood of the two other men
she’d killed had dried on it and she hadn’t bothered to clean it. It would only get
dirty again.

She came to a stop just over Nelson, and he turned his head upward, his eyes full
of fear as he stared into hers.

“D-don’t k-kill me,” he stammered. “Please, I’ll do whatever you want.”

She shook her head. “You’re a pathetic piece of shit, Nelson. You’re quite the badass
when you’re up against a drugged, helpless woman. Not so badass when she’s armed.”

She kicked him so he rolled to his back, and he let out another groan when it jarred
his leg. Then she knelt awkwardly, grimacing as her own bullet wound protested the
motion.

It should feel empowering to tower over the man who’d brutalized her and know that
his fate was entirely up to her. That he was begging her for the mercy he’d been unwilling
to give her.

But all she felt was paralyzing fear. Panic rose, making her shaky where she’d been
rock steady just before. She stared into his eyes and remembered staring into them
when he’d raped her. They were as soulless now as they’d been then, only then they’d
glowed with power. A savagery that he’d enjoyed despite his grumbling that he preferred
a fight.

The knife shook, and she tightened her grip, fully intending to mark him as he’d done
her.

“Where can I find your boss?” she demanded.

He spit at her, and she backhanded him with the butt of the pistol. Blood streamed
from his lips and nose as he turned back to glare his hatred.

“Tell me what I want to know or I’ll gut you like a pig and leave you here to die
a very slow, painful death. The buzzards might not even wait for you to die before
they start feasting.”

He paled and licked his lips, but he hesitated.

She flicked the blade at the fly of his pants and deftly sliced the material so it
gaped open. Then she pressed the blade under his navel and carved a line from one
side to the other, drawing blood.

He screamed in pain and sucked air through his nostrils. He was gasping like a fish
sucking his last breath on land.

She put the tip of the blade lower until it rested right over his dick. He went completely
still, his eyes so wide with fright that they bulged and looked as though they’d pop
right out of their sockets.

“Okay, okay! Just take it easy. I’ll tell you what you want to know. Just put the
knife down for God’s sake.”

“Tell me where to find Brumley,” she said coldly.

“He’ll be in Jakarta,” he choked out. “Three weeks. You won’t find him until then.
I don’t even know where he plans to be. But there’s a big deal going down there. One
of his contacts has promised him the best of the best girls. If his contact is telling
the truth, this will make Brumley millions. He’s already lining up buyers based on
information he’s received about the girls. Guy’s name is Dimas. He’s a big shot in
Jakarta. Local businessman who’s delving into human trafficking for the first time.
Word is, he’s delivering virgins and Brumley’s clientele is going nuts. He’s planning
to auction them individually in an exclusive, high-security, extremely private venue
on the island he owns.”

P.J.’s lips curled into a snarl and a sound of rage burned deep in her chest and bubbled
outward, vibrating her throat. Red clouded her vision. She raised the knife, prepared
to end it now.

“Hands up!”

She froze, fear scuttling through her stomach. She turned her head to see two armed
men at the corner of the house. They carried assault rifles and they were both pointed
at her.

One man jerked the barrel of the rifle in an upward motion to indicate she was to
raise her hands.

Fuck. She’d acted like a goddamn rookie seeing her first live action. She’d holstered
the gun instead of keeping it out because she’d assumed that the house had been vacated
and that all of Brumley’s men had escaped with him. As Steele always said, people
who assume are usually the ones who end up dead.

She’d forgotten her training, so eager had she been to exact justice. And now she
was going to pay dearly for that mistake.

The two men started forward, their guns never lowering. P.J. kept her hands in the
air, the knife still gripped in one of them.

She could probably take one of them out by throwing the blade when they got close
enough, but she’d have to rely on the other guy either being distracted or missing
if he shot so she’d have enough time to draw her own gun.

As if reading her thoughts, the two spread out, circling in a wide berth around her.
Then one motioned for her to get down on her knees.

Her mind buzzed with possibilities. She had to think of a way out of this.

She started downward, taking her time, playing up the injury to her leg as if she
were close to dying. She groaned and grunted before settling to her knees. The entire
way down, she slowly lowered her empty hand, hoping the men were more fixated on the
one holding the knife.

Just a little more . . .

“She’s going for her gun!” Nelson cried out.

P.J. cringed and waited for the bullet to hit her.

To her utter shock, one of the men went rigid. A hole bloomed on his forehead and
blood streamed down his face as he slowly crumpled to the ground like a deflated balloon.

She went for her gun and rolled, just as the other man went down, blood splattering
everywhere.

A hand grabbed her ankle and jerked. She tried to kick with her injured leg and couldn’t
hold back the scream of pain. She came up with a vengeance, launching herself at Nelson.
He was desperate to save his ass and she was just as determined to kill him.