Carol Ericson - Bulletproof Seal

Taking down the other soldier had revealed his position, and now he was outnumbered and outgunned. He rolled to his back and scrambled down the hillside like a forward-moving crab. He scuttled behind a row of trees and started breaking down his rifle.

Dragging himself up and wedging his back against a tree trunk, he stuffed his gear into his bag and then swung it onto his back.

He lunged forward onto his belly and army-crawled his way through the forest to the tunnel that would take him back to South Korea and the designated pickup point.

What would he tell his superiors? He did end up with mission success. Although it wasn’t his bullet that had done the job, he had neutralized the target—Rikki Taylor.

They’d been wrong. They’d all been wrong. Rikki had not been working with the enemy.

And now that Quinn was responsible for her death, his life wasn’t worth living.

Chapter One

Sixteen months later

The footsteps echoed behind her on the rain-slicked pavement. Rikki stopped and spun around. Silence greeted her as she peered down the dark, narrow street.

With her muscles coiled tightly, she continued, and her tag-along followed suit. As she began to turn again, the footsteps, two sets, quickened and two bodies rushed her.

The glint from a knife flashed in the night, and Rikki finished her turn with her feet flying. She kicked the assailant with the knife in the gut, and he doubled over, his weapon clattering to the cobblestones.

The other man yelped in surprise and before he could recover, Rikki swept up the knife from the ground and wielded it toward her attacker’s face.

“Get lost, or I’ll slice you from chin to navel. Yu done know?”

The man’s eyes widened so that the whites gleamed like two orbs. His friend groaned from the ground.

Rikki growled, “And take him with you.”

He held up one hand and grabbed his buddy by the arm with the other, dragging him to his feet. “Eazy, nuh.”

“You take it easy and get moving or I’ll call the police.”

The two hapless muggers took off, and Rikki pocketed the knife. The streets of Jamaica, even in the tourist trap of Montego Bay, turned deadly after dark, but Rikki had more to fear in her own country right now.

She slipped into the alley where an orange light swayed in the breeze, sidling along the walls of the ramshackle building. She ducked under a tattered blue-and-white-striped awning and rapped at the window.

A curtain stirred. Rikki stepped sideways into the weak light to identify herself.

A wiry man opened the door and hustled her inside as he poked his head into the alley and looked both ways. “Where’s your ride?”

“I walked from the main street.”

He shook his head. “Dangerous place for anyone to be walking, especially a girl like you.”

Rikki hid her smile behind a covered cough. “I’m okay. Are you Baily?”

“The one and only.” He double-locked the door behind them and twitched the curtain back in place.

“Do you have everything ready?”

“Come with me.” He crooked one long finger in her direction.

Rikki followed him through a single room where an old woman sat in front of an older TV, the blue light flickering across her lined face. She didn’t acknowledge Rikki’s presence or even move a muscle.

Baily shoved a dark curtain aside and waved Rikki into a small room. He pointed to a green screen and said, “Stand in front of that. I’ll get your picture first. Everything else is ready to go.”

As she took a step toward the screen, Baily tugged on her sleeve. “Business first.”

Rikki pulled a wad of cash from her pocket. Those thieves on the street would’ve hit pay dirt with her—well, except for the fact that they’d picked a CIA operative, trained in self-defense and street fighting, as their target.

She counted out the agreed-upon sum, and Baily got to work.

Thirty minutes later, Rikki had a Canadian passport and a birth certificate for one April Thompson. She studied the passport with the Jamaican stamp. “I heard you were good, Baily. These better not let me down.”

“Never had a problem yet.” He cocked his head in a birdlike fashion. “Girl like you in trouble with the Babylon?”

“Babylon?” She stuffed the documents into the manila envelope he’d handed to her.

“De law.” He waved his hands in a big circle. “De system.”

“You could say that.” She stuck out her hand. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

He shook her hand and then yelled, “Darien!”

Rikki jumped, jerking her hand from his grip and placing it over the newly acquired knife in her waistband.

Baily placed one finger against the side of his nose. “No worries. Darien just my boy. He’ll take you back.”

A skinny young man poked his head into the room, his dreadlocks bobbing and swaying. “Yeah, Daddy?”

“Take this young woman wherever she wants to go. Don’t stop anywhere.”

Darien grinned. “Sure ting.”

After thanking Baily, Rikki followed Darien outside.

He turned sideways and scooted between two of the houses along the alley. A chain clinked and rattled, and Darien pushed a scooter out in front of him. “Hop on de back.”

Clutching her fake documents to her chest, Rikki climbed on the back of Darien’s scooter. He zoomed through the streets of Montego Bay as she shouted directions in his ear over the buzzing sound of the bike.

A block away from the resort, she tapped Darien’s shoulder and pointed to the side of the street.

The bike sputtered to a stop, and he leaned it to one side as if it were a mammoth Harley instead of a putt-putt scooter. Rikki slid off the back and handed Darien a folded bill.

His gaze darted from the outstretched money to her face. “Daddy would smack me in da head if I took that.”

“Daddy doesn’t have to know.” She tucked the cash beneath his fingers curled around the handlebar of his scooter and twirled away. She made a beeline for the resort and didn’t slow her pace until she walked through the front entrance.

“Good evening, Miss Rikki.”

“Hey, George.” She waved her manila envelope and scurried out the side door and across the pool deck, where drunken tourists had gathered for one last nightcap.

The damp foliage brushed her skin, and she inhaled the sweet, heavy fragrance of the white bellflower as she tromped down the path to the cottage. When she was inside, she leaned against the front door, closing her eyes and hugging the fake documents to her chest.

“Did you get what you needed, Rikki?”

Rikki opened one eye and dipped her chin to her chest. “I did. Thanks, Chaz.”

Her stepfather winked. “I’ve been on this island a long time. I know important people in low places.”

Her mother floated into the room behind Chaz, her long gray braid hanging over one shoulder. “Are you sure you want to do this, Rikki? You don’t owe them anything, and as far as they know, you’re dead. You and Bella could live here with us for as long as you like.”

Rikki rolled her eyes. “I would go stir-crazy here, Mom. Besides, I have to do this. I have important information.”

“They don’t deserve it.” Mom sniffed.

Bella cooed and gurgled from the other room, and Rikki dropped the manila envelope on a table and hurried toward the bedroom. She leaned over the crib and scooped up her baby girl, holding her close and breathing in her baby-powder scent.

“She’s going to miss you.”

Rikki glanced at her mom, who stood with her shoulder wedged against the doorjamb, and blinked the sudden tears from her eyes. “I’m doing it for her, Mom. I have to get my life back for both of us.”

“Does that mean seeing him?”

“I have to start with him, see what he knows, maybe use his contacts.”