Katie Reus - Targeted

A rapid-fire round of shots sounded behind them, and Sophie let out a distressed mewling sound as she buried her face in his neck. He stroked a hand over her head, hoping to soothe her.

The farther they moved away, the more distant the voices got until he couldn’t hear them at all. Sophie still clung to him. He worried she’d gone into mild shock, which might be a small blessing. If he could just get her on dry land and retrieve his vehicle, they had a fighting chance of getting out of this alive.

About five hundred yards down, a rusty ladder hung over the walk above them. It seemed to take forever, but finally they made it. Grabbing it, he took Sophie’s face in his other hand, gently stroking her cheek with his thumb. Her eyes were wide but alert. “I need you to let go of me so I can climb up.”

“O . . . kay,” she said through clenched teeth as a chill snaked through her.

He peeked his head over the top and let out a shaky breath. A lone warehouse with boarded-up windows was to his right. An older-model Grady White with no engines on a trailer sat next to it. To his left was the back of the grocery store where he’d left his backup. Jack looked down at Sophie clinging to the metal ladder. Her hair was plastered to her face, those dark eyes of hers hauntingly wide, making her look young and vulnerable. It reminded him of the last time he’d seen her. He swallowed hard, fighting the urge to pull her into his arms. “Do you have enough energy to run about a hundred yards?”

“Will there be . . . d-dry clothes?”

Grinning at her attitude, he nodded.

“Then hell yeah,” she said through clenched teeth.

Going dark: when an operative cuts all communication for a certain period of time.

Sophie kept stealing glances at Jack as they drove down the highway, but so far she hadn’t said anything. Her hair was slicked back and her arms were wrapped around her still-shivering body. Jack had turned on the heat in his backup car, and she’d stripped out of her wet clothes into a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt he had in his duffel bag. The clothes were too big for her, but they were dry.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he told her as he pulled out one of his backup cell phones from the duffel. After the way he’d just carried her to safety, she should know that, but maybe she needed reassurance.

“Why should I believe you?”

“First, I gave you a loaded weapon. Second, if I wanted you dead, I’d have let that shooter blow your head off—or I could have drowned you myself back there.”

She winced at his words and her already pale face turned almost gray. Instantly he wanted to kick his own ass. Yeah, he really needed to learn some subtlety.

“Where are we going?” Her voice was even quieter now.

“Somewhere safe.”

“Where?” she persisted.

“You’re just going to have to trust me.”

“I barely know you.” She mumbled a few Spanish words under her breath, and though his knowledge of the language was limited, he was pretty sure she called him a lying criminal.

Despite the situation, he had to bite back a smile at her attitude. She impressed him with how well she was handling everything. Ignoring her annoyance, he called his boss.

“Yeah?” Wesley answered immediately.

“Are you on a secure line?”

“Of course. What’s going on?”

“Someone just tried to kill Sophie Moreno.”

“Who?”

“Don’t know yet, but they were highly trained. Got a brief look at one of the guys right before we crashed into Biscayne Bay. He was Caucasian, dark hair, couldn’t tell how tall he was.”

“Russian?”

“No way to tell, but I heard them speaking Spanish, so I’m guessing no.” He briefly filled in his boss on what had happened.

Wesley was silent for a long beat. “You can’t take her back to SBMS or the condo.”

“I know. Do you know anything about Homeland Security wanting to talk to her?”

“What?”

“I didn’t think so. Looks like we might have a leak or they’ve been watching SBMS too. Homeland Security was at SBMS waiting to question her before we were attacked. I’m en route to a safe house, but as soon as we disconnect, I’m going dark until tomorrow.”

“Damn it, Jack, I need a way to contact you.”

“Too bad.” He pressed the END button, then took out the battery. Jack couldn’t chance that someone was tracking them with a satellite. The NSA had better security than all their government agencies combined, but if there was a mole, all the security in the world wouldn’t matter.

“Who was that?” Sophie scooted back in her seat, as if she could hide from him.

He sighed but kept his eyes on the road. “That was my boss.”

“How does he know who I am? And what do you mean there might be a leak? Who are you? After what just happened I think I deserve to know.” The pitch of her voice rose steadily with each word.

Jack couldn’t afford to have her freak out now. Especially not when he was pretty sure she was in mild shock. “Listen, I know you’re scared, but I need to get you to a safe place and we really need to clean up your wound.” He didn’t know when she’d been hit, but he was assuming a piece of glass or something else had hit her at the restaurant. The outside of her left jacket sleeve had been soaked with blood, and a tiny portion covered the back of her new T-shirt.

“Wound?” She glanced down at herself and ran a hand over the front of her shirt and sweatpants.

“Blood’s seeping through the back of your shirt, so I’m assuming you were hit.” If they’d had time, he’d have cleaned it up when they first reached the backup car. But time was not on their side.

She reached around with her right hand and felt the left side of her ribs and upper back. She winced in pain when she touched her shoulder blade. “Why didn’t I feel anything before?” she asked through gritted teeth.

“Adrenaline.”

When she pulled her hand back, there were a few specks of blood on her fingers. She took in a few deep, ragged breaths.

Shit. The sight of blood used to make her sick. He’d just assumed that she’d gotten over it. Up until now she’d been handling everything relatively well. Even though he hated wasting time and stopping, he glanced in the rearview mirror and steered into a gas station parking lot.

“Lean forward and put your head between your legs,” he said quietly.

She shook her head, her breathing ragged. “I’m fine.”

“Humor me, then.”

Muttering another curse, she did as he said. He reached out and rubbed her back in small, soothing circles, careful to stay far away from the wound. The action was instinctive for him. She might not realize it, but her body needed comforting. It was pure biology. Instead of calming down, however, she tensed and her erratic heartbeat increased. He could feel the thumping against his fingers.

“Sophie? Talk to me.” He kept his words low and even.

Still leaning forward, she shook her head. “Can’t breathe . . . Today is insane. . . . We were shot at and . . . you could have drowned. . . .” She sucked in another uneven breath.

“Sophie.”

When she still didn’t respond, Jack made a decision. He knew he’d regret this later, but for now, it was the only thing he knew that would get her under control. “Look at me.” His words were a sharp order.

Immediately she sat up, her dark eyes wide. Against his better judgment, he reached out to comfort her. He just wanted to wrap his arm around her so she’d calm down. Well, he wanted more than that. After she’d been plastered against him in the frigid water, he ached to feel her lean body around him once again. Because she wanted to be, not out of necessity. His fingers threaded through the curtain of her damp hair as he pulled her close. Her breathing was still erratic, and she practically fell across the console as she buried her face in his chest and dug her hands into his shoulders. Jack continued rubbing her back in soothing, rhythmic patterns until her heart rate slowed to normal. Comforting her like this was better than anything he could say with words.