Hard to Kill: a Hard Targets novel Read online

  She struggled to extricate herself from beneath him. Even in the dark, she spotted the lump forming on his forehead. She didn't have time to check his fate, as the man grabbed her around the waist, lifting her off the floor before she had a chance to retrieve her gun. The breath squeezed out of her lungs as he increased the pressure. She tried to break his grasp by yanking at his forearms, but his grip was fierce.

  Instead, her fingers inched down her thigh until she reached the handle tucked inside the pocket of her cargo fatigues. The sensation of the steel against her fingertips gave a boost of adrenaline she hadn't thought possible.

  Striking wildly, she brought the blade up high, hoping to catch his throat but missing the mark. Preoccupied with the blood pouring out of his cheek, he opened himself up for the dagger she drove deep into his chest. The impact of his body hitting the floor reverberated along her spine.

  Her fingers trembled at her side, and it seemed to take an inordinate amount of effort to keep her nerves attached and inside her skin. She hated killing people. It reminded her of the blackness inside her.

  She squashed the thought and forced herself to think. Marco had to be close. Bile backed up into her throat as vulnerability made a resurgence. She heard a lock click down the hall and ran in that direction. No one would run and hide except for Marco.

  "Where's Caitlyn Collins?" she shouted before breaking the lock with a kick.

  The room was small and dark with a large wooden desk, a small couch, and two cathedral-style windows along the back. Marco spotted her and immediately ran toward the windows.

  She launched herself onto his back as he attempted to escape. Immediately, she regretted not retrieving her knife. And shooting Marco was too good for him. Besides, she kinda sorta promised Kane.

  "I'm going to kill you." He tried to flick her off his back, but she wouldn't budge. Marco's words were punctuated by short, choppy breaths as he struggled to remove her hands from around his neck.

  "Not likely." She yanked tighter. But the angle was wrong for sufficient leverage.

  He propelled backward into the wall, sending a shockwave of pain along her spine. Still, she hung on. As oxygen deprivation started to cloud his thinking, he tumbled about the room, determined to break her hold. Then he went toward the window and drove her back through the glass. Shards embedded themselves right through the flak jacket, accompanied by pain.

  Numb. Just go numb, Dragi.

  Blood trickled down her back and onto her arms as her strength began to wane. But she used a last surge of energy to tighten her chokehold.

  Finally, Marco's knees began to buckle. She jumped off right before he face-planted onto the floor.

  She ran into the other room to check on Kane, but he was still out. She checked his vitals, and once she found his pulse, a sense of relief shimmied through. When she reached for his gun, someone grasped her ankle, pulling her to the floor.

  While she kicked and twisted to shake free of his grip, he slid her back to the other room. She fumbled for purchase, certain since he had the upper hand, he would easily toss her out the window. His dominance was clear. Her weakness evident. Panic took hold as her fingernails splintered while she tried to dig into the floorboards, all while the glass drove ditches into her skin.

  Her body continued to helplessly slither toward him. Nothing could prevent her slide toward the inevitable.

  He'd kill her. No doubt about that. And he wouldn't be quick about it. Based on the laugh he emitted, which rumbled like a death march from his chest, he was enjoying her struggle. He sensed her fear and was getting off on it.

  He chanted, in a tone so macabre it dredged up every horror film she'd ever seen, "Come on, Sabrina. Winning isn't an option. You should know that by now."

  He used her name. Somehow he'd figured out who she was. And if he knew, then Trinity did as well. Funny how that thought stuck in her head. But it somehow gave her an idea.

  Figure it out. No one will ever save you.

  She forced her muscles to go limp. Her hand slid along the floor lifeless rather than grasping and clawing.

  But as she feigned defeat, her fingers touched something beneath the desk. A syringe. She thought of the many times he'd poked her with the same instrument and filled her with poison. It would only be fitting if he was the victim this time. Maneuvering it within her grasp, she let him continue to pull her along the floor as if a willing victim.

  He stopped when she was next to him. As he straddled her body, his fingers surrounded her throat, which gave her an ideal target. With an oomph that rocked her whole body, she stuck him at the vulnerable point in his neck, plunging the needle deep within his flesh and emptying the contents. She didn't have a clue what was in it, or what it might do to him, but there weren't a lot of other choices.

  He grasped at it with trembling hands, yanking to pull it out, but it was too late. The poison was already mainlining through his system. He struggled for breath, but she felt nothing but a sense of vindication.

  "Where's Caitlyn Collins?" Her fingers trembled. Before he passed out, she needed to know.

  He coughed and grabbed at his throat, a combination of blood and spittle spurting from his mouth. She'd seen it more times than she could count, and knew death was in his eyes. So close it was only moments away. What had been inside that needle, she couldn't even guess.

  "Who's Trinity?" she growled. He couldn't die without telling her something.

  A weak smile pulled up the edges of his blue lips. "I'll never tell."

  "Where's Caitlyn?" she screamed, pulling on the front of his shirt. "Do not die on me, you heartless bastard."

  But it was too late. His head tilted to the side, the color drained from his face along with the life out of his body. She didn't feel a sense of victory.

  She ripped the wristband from his arm without much trouble. Too numb and too tired to feel much of anything. Her breath squeezed from her lungs while blood dripped along the floor as she scooted away. She stayed that way until the shakes subsided enough that she felt she could stand and check on Kane.

  "Kane." She stroked his cheek and pushed down the fear and paranoia rising to the surface. She realized the uphill battle she faced to find Caitlyn. For the first time in a long while, she questioned her ability to see this through to the end.

  As desperation seeped in, she shook his shoulders. "Kane."

  He moaned before his body shifted. "What the hell?" he muttered.

  "Marco's dead." While ninety percent of her body wanted to collapse, that luxury no longer existed in her world.

  Still unsteady, he somehow managed to get to his feet, and reached down to bring her along with him. "Shit." He picked at the shards of glass littering her back, causing the pain to finally reach her senses. "What happened to you?"

  She tried to keep her "ouches" to a minimum. But it hurt. Bad.

  "Close encounter with a window, courtesy of Marco."

  Quiet pervaded as he yanked pieces of glass from her back. The prickle of awareness snaked down her spine, a prelude to trouble. Her body shook as adrenaline, shock, and terror penetrated through and sounds from below seeped into her awareness. The men were starting to gain momentum in their quest to be free.

  "Do that later. Grab his laptop and let's get out of here."

  He touched her hand, signaling his agreement. They men must have heard the scuffle and recognized what was happening. It sounded as if they were moments from breaking free.

  A sense of urgency fueled her movements as they sprinted down the hall toward the front door. While they ran into the woods, shouts came from behind right before shots peppered the trees around them. All she could think of was not now. Not when she'd come this close.

  Every bone in her body cried for attention. Her back felt on fire. She was convinced her muscles were as well. It didn't matter. They kept running until they reached the small grouping of trees with the brush covering the bike.

  Kane started up the bike, and she hopped on the back.
Gunshots continued but sounded farther and farther away. When they were out of reach, she expelled a shaky breath.

  They rode while the silence and relief invaded her inch by inch. With each mile away from that chalet the sense of reprieve settled inside her bones, even while pain dulled her mind.

  Kane stopped the bike by the edge of a lake. By now the sun was beginning to break into the morning sky and warmth invaded her chilled skin. The clear blue water lent a calmness to the setting despite her rapid pulse.

  Sabrina eased off the bike, the adrenaline shakes making her limbs twitchy. Finally, she felt the stirrings of vindication. They had survived. Marco was dead. While he hadn't divulged his secrets, she had his computer along with the thumb drive he so closely guarded. While it wasn't victory yet, it was a step in the right direction.

  "I cannot believe we made it out alive." The cuts along her back hurt, but with adrenaline pumping through her veins, she could embrace the euphoria of success.

  Finding Caitlyn was within her reach. She could feel it with every bone of her body. Despite the odds, she'd bring that girl back home.

  Kane's smile began to form slowly, as if he wasn't quite sure if he should indulge in that bit of comfort for now. First, the line appeared in his cheeks, then the indentation got deeper and deeper until it was a full-on, dimple-wielding grin. A grin that could no doubt melt a woman's heart. Not hers, but the ease of it made a warmth spread from her head to her toes.

  "I can't believe we actually pulled that off." He winked and moved closer.

  She jumped, bumping his chest. "Ouch. I guess girls weren't meant to do those. Either that or your chest is too hard."

  "Or yours is too soft."

  "Be careful, you're sounding like Goldilocks."

  He ran his fingers through her hair, letting his thumbs rest at the spot on her neck right behind her ear. With gentle pressure he rubbed up and down beneath her jaw as he looked into her eyes. A kind of nervous energy blossomed inside her chest.

  Anticipation.

  And then he kissed her. Sensations she didn't recognize bombarded her, making her knees weak and her heart pound in her chest.

  This was crazy. Stupid. Ridiculous. But man oh man, it felt incredible. This wasn't the Sabrina Shaw she knew. That woman didn't believe in any connection beyond the level of lust. But this felt different. A tingle vibrated at the base of her spine and permeated through her body until every square inch of her pulsed and radiated with a need so consuming she wasn't all that sure it would ever be satisfied.

  Which was ludicrous.

  She'd never heard of anything so lame. But why was it that what her rational mind knew was true, her body wouldn't believe.

  When he broke the kiss, it wasn't because she gave him any indication she wanted him to. A fact that embarrassed the crap out of her.

  Rather than say anything, he pulled her in tight about the waist and rested his forehead onto hers. They stood there, for the longest time. In that position.

  And somehow, with everything they'd gone through, it felt so very right.

  CHAPTER NINE

  "I need to look at your back," he mumbled, his head next to hers, his hands affixed to her waist.

  Sabrina sighed. The furthest thing from her mind right now was letting go. This respite of serenity felt a lifetime in the making. Some strange and foreign part of her wanted to suspend this moment indefinitely. Another inkling that the Sabrina Shaw she'd become accustomed to was bound for a change.

  "You could be sliced up pretty bad. We won't know unless I check." He slid away from her to illustrate his point. "Thank God you had on that flak jacket; your back would have been cut to shreds."

  She inched away as he helped remove her protective vest. He pulled out small shards still embedded in the fabric of her long-sleeve fatigues. Then he lifted the shirt as well as the t-shirt beneath it over her head.

  Immediately she crossed her arms over her chest, not that it mattered. First of all, he'd seen her naked. Second of all, his attention was focused on examining her back. And thirdly, it didn't much bother her if Kane saw her naked. Which was not a good sign either.

  "If that bastard wasn't dead, I'd go back and slice him to pieces for this," Kane muttered.

  Even with the light touch, pain radiated down her spine. Yep, the adrenaline had definitely left the building. "Ouch." She bit her lips to keep from crying out more than she already was.

  "Matter of fact, I might go back and blow up his damn body for good measure."

  "There's that machismo thing rearing its ugly head. You know I can take care of myself."

  With an innocent shrug, he muttered, "Can't help it."

  He shook out her shirt, letting any pieces he'd missed fall into the grass. Then he walked toward the water, immersing the fabric and rinsing it out. Satisfied, he cleared it of any debris, wrung it out, then shook it again.

  "I'm going to wash off some of the blood and try to clean up the cuts. You need some ointment to make sure you don't get an infection. The windows in that house are old and haven't seen a good cleaning in a while."

  With a gentle touch, he tended to her cuts. The sting of the water on the open wounds caused her to flinch, but he continued apologizing each time she let out an ouch.

  Keeping her hands across her chest, she turned when he stopped. Oblivious to her nudity, he removed his flak jacket then his own shirt. This whole preoccupation with Kane was starting to irritate her. But the female side to her couldn't help but notice the tightly bound shoulders and arms, defined with muscle. Her eyes strayed a little too long for her own piece of mind on the combination of all three. Finally, she turned once again toward the water.

  "Put this on while yours dries," he said.

  If he noted her uncharacteristic fixation on his bodily attributes, his expression didn't give her a clue. Good. She'd never want him to know she was human after all.

  "Let's turn on Marco's computer and see if we get anything."

  He yanked it out of his backpack. The screen flickered to life, displaying a naked woman as a screensaver. "I would have expected that from Marco." Kane shrugged and fiddled with it to gain access.

  "Put in the memory device from Marco's wrist and see where that gets us." She stuck it into the port, only to get a bunch of gibberish rolling across the screen. "I knew this wasn't going to be easy. The good stuff has to be hidden with a password." She shook her head and tried to tamp down the frustration.

  "The battery's running low, and I've already arranged a cottage for us over the border into Italy. We'll charge it up and work on it there. I'll have Ron have some antibiotic cream dropped off along with the food and clothes." He opened the map. "If we follow this trail we shouldn't meet any border guards."

  * * *

  The only thing that hurt worse than Kane's head was his chest every time he thought of how close they'd come to getting killed. And she'd killed the only lead he had in Marco. Between the computer and the flash drive, he had to hope there was a whole lot of data they could recover that might salvage the operation.

  His discomfort of riding on the bike was tempered by the fact he kept remembering the gouges on her back. Her milky white skin was cut as if she'd gotten fifty lashes. Every time he even touched her, she about jumped out of her skin. And the wash of anger settled low inside him. He'd failed in his mission of securing Marco to get him to talk. Getting to Trinity would be even harder now.

  A couple of hours later, Kane pulled in front of the cottage. "We're here." After she eased off the back, he flipped down the kickstand and got off. He found the key in the plant hanging along the porch and unlocked the door.

  "Plug in the computer." As usual, Sabrina didn't want to waste any time. Then again, he didn't expect her to.

  "Outside or in?"

  "Outside." She held out her hands and he complied.

  "I'm going to take a quick shower, then I'll bring out the food."

  "Hurry up. I'm starving."

  After his sh
ower, Kane grabbed the tray of food from the small refrigerator. Gotta give it to Ron—he thought of everything. He peeked inside an envelope left on the nightstand, and spotted enough money to tide them over for a while, along with a duplicate passport for Sabrina.

  The cottage was small, but comfortable. A large bed stood in the center against the wall, adorned with a white lace coverlet and an abundance of pillows. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in the cool, dry evening air, and candles decorated the fireplace. The table outside on the terrace gave a breathtaking view of the mountains. For right now, it offered a sense of security.

  "Here's some cold pasta and vegetables, some fresh fruit, and a bottle of wine." He popped open the cork. "Gotta love these Italians. They know how to eat."

  Hunched over the computer, she stuck a fork into the large bowl and twirled the spaghetti around before she slurped it inside her mouth. She smiled and clicked away on the keyboard.

  "How is it?" Kane handed her a glass of wine.

  "Incredible." She twirled another forkful of pasta and roasted vegetables, holding it up to Kane's mouth for a sample. "Taste for yourself."

  "Man, this stuff is good." He reached for another forkful, but she batted down his hand.

  "Get your own fork."

  There was something intimate in the gesture. Maybe more comfortable than intimate. He couldn't say for sure how or why it happened.

  "Find a way to get around the password yet?"

  "Still working on it." She shook her head and took a sip of wine. "I can't get this screen to stop spewing gibberish."

  "Ron also dropped off a change of clothes for both of us—including new underwear. How's about that for the good old FBI handling everything."

  "Hmm, sounds as if he thought of it all. But I don't imagine he picked me up a bra."

  "Taken care of. As well as a duplicate passport for you." He shrugged. "I guessed at the bra size —34C?"

  "In my dreams." She giggled. "Hey, a little Kleenex here and there and I'll be good to—wait—got in." Her jaw clenched tight as she tapped on the screen, but then she swore. "What is this? It appears to be a list of account receivables and payables. While the receivables are in the five digits, and the bottom line is substantial, it doesn't give me what I want."