WAR: Opposition: (WAR Book 3) (39 page)

Kirra bolted stage left. Black metal support poles held up the backdrop and she scrambled up the closest one. Her bare feet made no noise and gave her a more tactile grip than if she’d attempted it in the tekkies.

Most people didn’t instinctively look up when entering a space, so if the rebels entered she’d have an extra few seconds to escape. Yanking her bandanna from her pocket, she wrapped it tightly around her right hand and wrist. Then she climbed to the rear right corner and peered out the square hole that allowed the electrical wires to pass through.

The electrical scaffolding extended over a dirt path that separated her stage from the next stage. Tall speakers ran along the side of the other stage, looming over a bank of generators. To her left, the path dead-ended at an access lane that ran between the exterior wall and the rear of the stages. A guard stood at the open door in the wall.

He faced in her direction, but his gaze was down and his head was tilted as he listened to the fight on the other side of the stage.

To her right, a tall security fence with a gate marked the boundary between the public and private areas. Too much open space lay beyond that.

Keeping a wary eye on the guard, Kirra eased out of the little access window and crawled onto the closest support beam. To minimize her silhouette against an early dawn sky that was quickly becoming lighter than the shadows below, she pressed as flat to the beams as possible as she inched her way along.

As she crawled, she estimated the distance to the speakers and the generators in case she had to drop down in an emergency. Her blood sizzled with excitement, but the painful throbbing of the cuts on her hand provided a somber reminder of the consequences should she get caught.

Behind her, boots pounded onto the surface of the stage, then her interrogator bellowed, “The prisoner has escaped!”

F
rom his hiding
place at the edge of the forest, Seth glanced across the steep river canyon at the walls surrounding the concert grounds. God, the things the rebels might be doing to Kirra—

Don’t think about it. Focus on your mission.

He rolled his head left and right, then shook out his hands and felt calm settle over him.

It would be a lot easier to coordinate his plan with Dev if they had comm gear. Since there were no other bridges over the river, Dev was driving the 4Runner north. In a mile and a half the river would disappear underground, connecting the peninsula to this side. Dev would circle east and approach the concert from the rear. He’d bypass the fighting between the rebels and the security team, sneak into the concert venue, and rescue Kirra.

They’d agreed that whether or not Dev reached the back of the concert in time, Seth would start his diversion after fifteen minutes.

His phone vibrated.

Thinking it might be Dev with an update, he pulled it out. But it was another photo from his blackmailer. This one showed his sister in the sniper’s sights.

There was no message.

Shit. Had Dev lied to him?

Seth checked the time. He had two hours until his blackmailer’s deadline.

He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. Whether or not Dev had told the truth didn’t alter his own life expectancy if everything went belly-up.

He checked his watch.

Showtime.

Seth climbed to his feet, pulled his bandanna out of his pocket, and stepped into the open with his hands in the air.

The sky had brightened enough that he should be visible to the rebels on each bridge. Rebels that belonged to two different factions, neither of which owed loyalty to Bureh.

Both groups came to alert as soon as they spotted him. Rifles swiveled in his direction. Men spoke into walkie-talkies.

“I wish to speak to men loyal to Frederic Bureh,” Seth hollered as he paced toward the edge of the cliff that dropped down to the river.

A few hundred yards to his right, not far inland from the end of the other bridge, the media had parked their vans in the area designated for attendee parking. One enterprising reporter stood in front of that bridge, her back turned. She spoke into a microphone and occasionally gestured to the rebels behind her.

As soon as he heard Seth’s shout, the cameraman swiveled in his direction. Seth inwardly winced, even though that was what he’d intended. Still, hiding his identity had been crucial to his survival. Letting the media broadcast his image now made him uneasy.

It’s necessary to protect the ones you love.

Right. His blackmailer needed to see that Seth had attempted to follow through on his orders.

Two rebels, one from each faction, detached themselves from their respective groups and marched toward the edge of the other river bank. They exchanged glares with one another, then the man on Seth’s right called out, “Bureh’s men are not here.”

Uh-huh. Right. If his blackmailer said Bureh’s rebels were here, they were here.

“Tell me why I should not have my men kill you.”

“I know where the diamonds are. But I will only deal with Bureh’s men.”

The rebel on Seth’s left shook his head. “As this one told you, Bureh’s men are not here. You will deal with me.”

The rebels on the far bridge took advantage of the distraction and fired. The men across from Seth fell. The rebels on the nearer bridge returned fire.

What the fuck?

Seth backpedaled away from the edge, but the rebels were too busy shooting at one another to pay attention to him. Time for Plan B. Help Dev rescue Kirra, then, if the SSU hadn’t yet secured his family, he’d find the assassin.

The reporter took a hit and fell. Her cameraman lunged forward and dragged her body back behind the nearest van. Then he picked up his camera and panned from one bridge to the other.

Seth had almost made it to the woods when an arm snaked around his torso, trapping his upper arms against his sides. He felt the kiss of metal as a pistol was jammed up under his chin. “Lower your hands, don’t do anything rash, and I won’t hurt you,” Rick Martin murmured in Seth’s ear as he walked them backward into the woods.

Seth’s heart sank. He’d hoped for the assassin.

The cameraman turned in their direction.

Fan-damn-tastic.

Seth remained quiet until they were well into the trees, then he gasped, “What the hell are you doing here, Martin?” The man was about to ruin everything.

“I told you. My boss wants the diamonds. I was sent to take them from you either willingly or by force. Good thing, too. Because if you’d given the diamonds to the rebels, I would’ve had to turn you over to Morenga so he could make an example of you.” He let up slightly on the pressure of the pistol under Seth’s chin, but didn’t loosen the hold he had on Seth’s torso.

“Now, reach slowly into your pocket and hand me the bag of diamonds.”

“Listen,” Seth began. “I just need—”

Gunfire tore into the trees in front of them.

Martin flung Seth left as he dove right. Seth hit the ground in a roll, then sprang to his feet and bolted away.

Martin didn’t follow. Instead, he returned the rebels’ fire.

The man had let him get away. What game was he playing?

Forget that. It didn’t matter. He was free. He was going after Kirra.

F
ear told Kirra to hurry
, hurry, hurry, but training and experience told her that moving stealthily was less likely to attract attention.

She’d almost reached the other end of the support beam when her interrogator raced into sight beneath her.

“Have you seen the white lady?” he shouted to the gate guard.

“No.” The guard pulled out his walkie-talkie.

Kirra’s right hand—slick with blood seeping through the bandanna over her cuts—slipped. For a terrifying second she imagined plummeting to the ground and being recaptured by the rebels.

She stopped her momentum by hugging the beam with her left arm and leg, but her right leg dangled in thin air.

Don’t notice me. Don’t notice me.

She slowly pulled her leg back onto the beam. Almost—

“There she is!”

Kirra quickly hauled herself across the remaining distance. One of the men fired at her. The bullet whizzed past her foot. When she reached the end of the beam, she dove through the hole into the stage’s interior.

She took refuge behind a row of spotlights and listened to the rebels. They expected her to run to the opposite end of the stage and agreed that one would head that way via the rear path, and the other via the front. Once she heard the sounds of their boots running away, she sidled over to the opening.

Confirming that no rebels were currently in sight, she slipped out of the hole, hung from the beam, and dropped onto the closest speaker. From there she jumped onto one of the generators, then leapt to the ground.

She raced out the gate.

To her left were the portable toilets and a mass of rebels by the bridge. Ahead were a few trees lining the edge of the river’s cliff.

She sprinted right along the wall, toward a gate that jutted out to block people on this path from entering the restricted area.

A rebel burst out of a gate in the wall a few meters in front of her.

“Found her!”

She spun and ran back the way she’d come. Only to nearly collide with her interrogator.

“Well, well,” he said as he slowed to a walk and stalked toward her. “Look who is trying to escape.” He pulled his knife.

Kirra backpedaled, then leapt for the wall. Her hands closed over the top bar, but the first rebel yanked her arm. He pulled her into a bear hug with her back to his front, and high enough that her feet didn’t touch the ground. Her fingers scrabbled at his waist and hands, trying to stabilize herself or break his hold.

Then hours of self-defense training took over. She hooked her right foot behind the rebel’s knee, then drove her left heel up into his groin. The man staggered back and dropped her. She landed with bent knees, then sent a rear kick into the rebel’s knee. Spinning toward him, she followed up with an elbow to the side of his head and a series of punches that drove him into the trees until he stumbled over a root and fell onto his back.

Kirra bolted toward the gate, but her interrogator leapt into her path. He grinned and advanced toward her, knife at the ready.

She eased backward and a bit sideways.

“I will enjoy cutting you into pieces, woman.”

A brief flicker of memory overlaid Franz’s face onto the rebel. Her muscles seized. Her vision tunneled and memories of her screams echoed in her mind.

No. Kirra shook her head. Franz has no power here.

She continued backing up, watching and waiting until finally her interrogator committed by lunging toward her. She blocked his knife hand, twisted her body toward him, and with a few strikes of her elbow and hand gained possession of the knife. He dodged her next blow, grabbed hold of her arm, and yanked. Kirra flowed with the motion, turning toward him and slicing across his arm with the knife. He cried out in pain and pulled his arm back.

Blood welled from the cut.

She froze. Bile rose in her throat.

The man’s furious roar snapped her back to reality. She ducked under his wild swing, drove her shoulder into his gut, then pulled his thighs toward her so he toppled backward.

She pivoted and bolted away, still holding his knife. Her pocket bulged with the item she’d snagged off the first rebel’s belt. Her fingers were as light as ever.

Her side cramped and she stumbled at the pain. No. She couldn’t slow down. Not yet.

A bullet slammed into the ground to her left.

Kirra jumped onto the fence that separated this section of the path from the section running alongside the restricted area and scrambled up and over. As soon as she landed on the other side, she pulled the grenade she’d stolen out of her pocket, yanked out the pin, and tossed it over the gate. Then she slapped her hands over her ears and bolted for the gate to the car park.

The ground shook. She stumbled. Her hands fell away from her ears. Behind her, men screamed.

Ignoring the commotion, she barreled down the path. The wall to her right protected the restricted area, so it had been constructed to prevent anyone from climbing it. With the right equipment and enough time, she could breach it anyway. Since she had neither, she continued running along the path parallel to the wall.

Her breath sawed in and out of her lungs. Her stomach hurt. The wounds on her hand throbbed.

Gunfire sounded behind her.

She pushed past the pain and put every drop of energy she had into running full-tilt.

Another gate jutted out from the wall ahead of her, marking the end of the restricted area and the beginning of the car park for the performers, vendors, and staff.

Kirra leapt onto the wall and started climbing. Her right hand cramped three-quarters to the top and she slipped. Hanging by only her left hand, her toes scrabbled to find a foothold.
Hurry, hurry, hurry.

Her toes found purchase. She levered herself to the top. Behind her, the rebels hadn’t yet managed to get past the crater left by the grenade. A quick glance to her right revealed a new group of rebels running along the sister path on the other side of the compound.

She’d hoped to enter the restricted area and get help from the security team, but its rear entrance was in the middle of the wall separating it from the car park. Even at full speed, she’d never reach the gate before the rebels came into sight.

She dropped down from the top of the fence. Bending over to reduce her silhouette, she darted behind the nearest vehicle. The rebels burst into view on the other side of the car park and immediately spread out in a search pattern.

Kirra worked her way stealthily from vehicle to vehicle until she reached the woods. She eased in between the trees, using the deeper shadows there to hide her movements.

A massive explosion threw her to her knees. When the aftershock passed, she pushed to her feet in time to see the last of the rebels leaving the car park in the direction they’d arrived from. They were probably headed to support their teammates against whoever had just attacked the front of the compound.

Kirra hurried through the woods, aiming for where her mental map placed the back road. The width of the peninsula soon narrowed, while the distance from the top of the bluff to each branch of the river shortened until it was only a few meters. Finally, the trees gave way to a grassy field that stretched from the river bluff on the left to the bluff on the right.

Another grove of trees bordered the opposite side of the field.

To the right of the field, close to the start of the other grove, she spotted Seth.

Her heart froze. Seth had his hands in the air as the assassin aimed a gun at him.

“
G
o ahead
, shoot me,” Seth told the assassin. He’d hoped to rescue Kirra first, but if this was the way he had to go out, he would.

The assassin narrowed his eyes. “You would like that, wouldn’t you? A fast, painless death. But you don’t deserve that. I will make you suffer first, the way you made my brother suffer.” The assassin fired.

Survival instincts took over and Seth shifted aside at the last moment. The bullet tore along the outside of his upper arm instead of the front of his shoulder. Seth dropped to his knees, but forced himself to stay still instead of rolling to safety. “I don’t know anything about your brother.”

“Liar. You—”

Someone tackled Seth and rolled them both into the assassin’s legs, knocking the assassin back.

Seth caught a glimpse of Dev’s face as the other man kicked the assassin in the head. Then Dev dragged Seth to the edge of the trees.

“No.” Seth struggled to break free of Dev’s hold. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? You’re supposed to be rescuing Kirra.”

“My orders say I’m supposed to turn you over to the U.S. government alive and well,” Dev snarled. “Which means no death by assassin.”

Betrayal gripped Seth by the throat. He drove his elbow into Dev’s sternum and twisted free. “So was all that talk about helping me protect my family bullshit then?”

“No.” Dev lunged for Seth.

Seth raised the pistol Dev had given him and shot the other man in the chest. Dev collapsed to his knees. “I’m sorry. I can’t let you take me in.” He fired again. Dev toppled onto his back. Seth grabbed Dev under the shoulders, hauled him to the cliff’s edge, and shoved him over.

“You bastard!”

Seth spun around to see Kirra racing toward him. The agony on her face was something he’d hoped never to see. It sliced his heart into pieces.

The assassin rose out of the grass like a specter and grabbed Kirra. He put her in a headlock and shoved his pistol against her temple.

No! Seth froze. Not Kirra.

He couldn’t breathe. The edges of his vision went dark.

“On your knees,” the assassin ordered. “Drop the pistol and cross your hands over your head.”

Seth obeyed. “Let the woman go.” He could barely force the words out past the choking fear. “I’m the one you want.”

“Oh, no,” the assassin said. “You’re going to watch me take my time killing her. Just the way I watched my brother slowly die from the bullet you shot into his back. The bullet that severed his spine and left him helpless in a backward little village in Southeast Asia.”

Ah, fuck. He’d been right about the resemblance. Seth had shot the other man—also a skilled assassin—in the back because it was the only way he could take him down. Since the man had fallen face first into the stream and floated away, Seth had assumed the guy died.

Nothing he could say would improve the situation, so Seth remained silent. But the knowledge that this was personal explained the man’s odd behavior. The calm of battle settled over Seth. The only way to beat the assassin was to be cool and detached, and hope he could use the man’s emotions against him.

He studied the assassin and waited for the man’s next move. The assassin had both his hands occupied. If he truly intended to hurt Kirra, Seth bet that the assassin would shift the pistol away from her ear. Maybe aim at her feet.

He’d be ready to act the second the man so much as twitched.

He wished he could signal Kirra somehow, but her gaze remained fixed on the point where he’d tossed Dev over the cliff.

I’m so damn sorry, sweetheart.

The assassin lowered the pistol an inch. Yeah, he was going for a foot shot. Seth dove forward.

At the same time, Kirra grabbed the assassin’s wrist and twisted it so that the pistol faced away from her. Seth tackled them both.

Seth took control of the assassin’s gun hand as Kirra scrambled away.

Once she was safely out of range, Seth grabbed the assassin in a body hug and rolled them both over the edge of the cliff.

K
irra snatched
up the pistol Seth had dropped. Gunshots rang out.

“No, damn you! You don’t get to do this to me.” She raced toward the edge of the cliff and peered down at the sandy bank of the river. Directly below her, the assassin lay sprawled across Seth. Neither man was moving.

Dev’s body lay not far to the right.

Kirra scrambled over the edge, jumped onto the sand, and ran over to Dev.

Oh God, he couldn’t be dead. Please, let him be alive. Yes, he was an overbearing jerk half the time, but he was still her big brother. She loved him. If he died because he’d come to help her, she’d never forgive herself.

She fell to her knees and touched her fingers to the pulse at his throat.

Dev’s eyes fluttered open.

“You’re alive!”

“Kev…lar…vest…” he groaned. “Just had…wind…knocked out…of…me…Jar…rod?”

“I don’t know.” She raised her head at the unmistakable sound of a helicopter. “I have to hide you.” She grabbed his shoulder, but his hand rose and captured her wrist.

“I signaled…for help.” He nodded at the phone in his right hand. “Check Jarrod.”

Pistol in hand, Kirra cautiously approached Seth and the assassin. She kicked the assassin’s foot, but he didn’t twitch. So she kicked the gun out of his hand, then heaved him off of Seth.

A combat knife protruded from the assassin’s gut. Kirra turned her head away, avoiding looking at the bloody wound.

The sounds from the helicopter grew louder. She flicked a glance downriver and saw it racing toward them.

“Kir…ra…” Seth’s eyes fluttered open. Blood foamed out of a hole in his chest.

Kirra averted her eyes, yanked the bandanna off her hand, and, with a few sideways glances to guide her, managed to position the cloth over the wound. It wasn’t a particularly sanitary solution, but it should hold him until they could get him to a doctor. She quickly ran her hands over the rest of his body to check for other injuries.

“Sor…ry…” His eyes closed.

“Don’t you dare die on me, you bastard.” Kirra had to shout over the rotor sounds from the helicopter that had come to a hovering stop a few meters away. “Sorry for what? For shooting my brother? For letting the assassin shoot you?”

Kirra touched his face, feeling him slipping away. Tears ran down her cheeks. “Sorry for breaking my damn heart?”

She raised the pistol.

S
eth must have died
and gone to heaven. Kirra was crying over him and he heard the unmistakable sound of a Black Hawk helicopter.