Worth the Risk (Book 3, Wolff Securities Series) Page 6

  Hawaii, here we come! Men beware, muahahaha.

  Love ya,

  Harp

  Bailey grinned. She’d been friends with Harper since elementary school and always got a kick out of her. She was feisty and fun. A free spirit for sure. The complete opposite of Bailey. Which is probably why they hit it off so well.

  Hawaii. That sounded perfect. Granted, she’d have to bring work with her, but right now it sounded like just the thing she needed.

  The pot whistled and she got up to take it off the heat. Yes, a vacation may be just the thing she needed. She smiled and poured hot water over her tea bag.

  10

  Jamshid, Azbakastan

  “Mr. Miller, can I get you something? A cup of coffee, perhaps? Some breakfast?”

  Kell raised his head at the nurse’s question. She’d come in to take Shea’s vitals, as they had every couple hours throughout the night. No change. Not even a twitch from Shea. He’d talked until he was hoarse with no reaction.

  “No, thanks, I can get it.”

  The young nurse smiled. “You should get some rest yourself. You won’t be much good to your wife if you can’t string two sentences together. Don’t worry. She’s in good hands.”

  She was right. He needed rest if he was going to be any good to Shea.

  “I can close the blinds and give you a couple hours uninterrupted if you like.”

  That sounded like heaven. “Thank you.”

  The nurse did as offered, the room going dark except for the light from the monitors and machines. Quietly, she left the room.

  Kell leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Just a few minutes was all he needed…

  A noise brought him awake. He sat up in his chair, looking around the room. Empty. No hospital staff. Must have been something out in the hallway that woke him.

  Scrubbing a hand down his face he glanced at his watch. He’d gotten two hours sleep. Didn’t feel like he’d slept that long.

  Shea still slept peacefully in the same position. His gaze roamed her face. Still pale. Bruised.

  His cell vibrated. He pulled it out and glanced at the screen. Quinn.

  With a frown, he answered. “Hey.”

  “Turn on the news.”

  Kell found the remote and flicked on the television hanging in the corner of the room. He turned the volume down low, flipping through channels until he found the news.

  A brave news anchor stood in the middle of a crowded street, chaos surrounding him as he tried to report the news happening. Looked like a riot. People of all ages stomped in the street holding up signs in Azebak, chanting the mantra “Death to America”.

  “Shit,” Kell muttered.

  “Yeah. And it isn’t just the tribal areas getting cranked up. It’s the entire country. They are rioting against all Westerners. Demanding vengeance for the assignation of Diakameli. He was like their damn Bin Laden. There’s chatter about a new IPA leader in place already.”

  Kell pinched the bridge of his nose. The IPA—Islamic Party of Azbakastan—was responsible for the death of his brother and countless other innocents. Their mantra to remove all western influence from A-Stan was known worldwide by every government agency in the alphabet. If they were already vying for a new leader this war had only begun. “Who?”

  “Akbar Abaev.”

  Fuck. The man had been rumored to have ties to the IPA. Although no government agency had been able to prove it. Now, it seemed he was an even bigger threat than surmised. Abeav laid lower than Diakameli ever had. Keeping himself tucked away in some hidey-hole in the mountains. He was suspected of the embassy bombing in 2010 that killed six Americans stationed there and a long list of crimes against humanity.

  Jesus. And they’d thought Diakameli the devil. Abeav was smarter, more cunning. More powerful. He could tear this country apart if given the power.

  “You can’t stay there,” Quinn said. “It’s too volatile.”

  Kell glanced at Shea. “I can’t leave. Shea is still in a coma.”

  “They are banning all travel to A-Stan. Advising tourists to get out of the country. I don’t have to tell you what that means.”

  No, he sure as hell didn’t. It meant shit was hitting the fan in a major way and no one was safe. A country in anarchy was not one to be in. Especially as an American.

  “Kell. Get out of that country. We can’t get there to watch your back.”

  Kell rubbed the back of his neck. With the travel ban he and Shea were on their own. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “That’s not good enough.”

  “What the hell do you want me to do? Shea hasn’t awakened. Moving her now would risk her life. She’s still getting blood transfusions.”

  Quinn cursed, low and fierce. “I don’t like this.”

  “Me, either, but my hands are tied at the moment. As soon as Shea wakes up and I can move her, we’re out of here.”

  “Ok. Keep me in the loop, dammit.”

  “Copy that.”

  Kell disconnected and closed his eyes for a brief moment. This whole thing had gone FUBAR real fast. They couldn’t be in a worse area. Riots would soon turn into free-for-all’s. Any person not of this country would be targeted. He could grow out his beard, mask himself amongst the locals, but Shea, with her vibrant red hair and pale skin would stand out like a beacon. Even if he covered her hair and put a hat and sunglasses on her, it wouldn’t be enough. They would be on the hunt for Westerners.

  A soft knock on the door and the nurse came in. “Did you get some rest?”

  “Yes, thanks.”

  She seemed uncomfortable as she took Shea’s vitals and wrote them down.

  “You have seen the news?” she asked.

  “Yes. Unfortunately.”

  “I’m sure it will all blow over soon.”

  He prayed she was right.

  “You’re safe here. Just…don’t stray too far from this room.”

  He heeded her warning with a nod.

  “I’ll have meals sent in to you. And coffee. Is there anything else you would like?”

  His duffle from the car. A change of clothes. His weapons. “No, I’m good.”

  “All right, then. Just use the intercom if you need anything.”

  “Thanks,” he said distractedly as she left the room.

  He got up and paced the room, mind spinning. The nurse had downplayed the events heating up right outside their door, as all staff would, but she was scared for them. Didn’t help to ease his tension.

  If they could get to the nearest embassy they could take refuge there. Unfortunately, the nearest one was on the other side of the mountain.

  Long shot to say the least. Getting out of the city would be hard enough. Making it across the mountains, nearly impossible. The roads would be blocked with armed guard. Not the good kind.

  Air travel was an option. If they could get to the airport. They would be flying people out of the country, but only if the IPA didn’t take over the airports. Which they would. They were out for blood after the assassination of Diakameli and would stop anyone from coming or going in whatever way possible. Their methods would be violent. This entire uprising would become more volatile with each passing minute.

  He bet if he stepped outside the air would crackle with impending doom. The tension palpable. He’d experienced it many times as a Delta operator. Sometimes the energy in the air would make the hairs on your arms stand up even if the threat wasn’t imminent yet. It was an uncanny feeling he hoped to never experience again.

  A thought crossed his mind. He stopped pacing to stare at Shea. He knew this woman on the most intimate level and in the field. And if he knew her like he did he would bet she had a safe house somewhere close. Hell, her house could potentially be a safe house. Wouldn’t surprise him one bit if she had it geared for war. Spooks were untrusting people. And they always had a plan B.

  He walked over to the bed and put his hand on hers. “Wake up, sweetheart,” he murmured. “We’re in tr
ouble.”

  11

  Jamshid, Azbakastan

  The voice again. More urgent. Still warm and safe. Shea fought hard to reach it, tearing her way through cobwebs that stuck to her hands and body as she tried to push through. It felt like thick caramel. Giving away when she elbowed through and wrapping around her the further she went. Like a bad dream where you’re running from a killer and your feet get trapped in quicksand. The harder you tried to run, the more it sucked you in.

  The closer she got to the voice the more the darkness tried to pull her back. Grabbing at her with it’s cold tentacles, refusing to let her go. Shea grabbed at them, tearing them off her arms, her legs.

  The voice grew stronger. She held on to it with everything she had. Pushed forward with all her might, leaving behind the part of her that wanted so badly to succumb to the darkness. Let it take her to her daughter. Finally, be at peace.

  But, that voice wouldn’t let her go. It drew her to it and away from bliss. Something was wrong. She felt it in her bones.

  A single ray of light at the end of the tunnel. Focusing on it, Shea forced her legs to move. As she drew closer the voice got louder. More familiar.

  Tiny fingers tried to pull her back but she broke free and ran as hard and fast as she could. Almost there…

  Shea opened her eyes, gasped for air as bright light stung her irises. She blinked, twisting her head away from the brutal glare. When she tried to shield her eyes with her hands they wouldn’t move.

  Panicked, she fought against them. No! It couldn’t be. She couldn’t still be in that room, secured to a cold metal table, her lifeblood draining out. That would be the cruelest joke ever. Take her away then bring her back to suffer alone and scared in that room.

  Two hands gripped her shoulders. A voice. The voice.

  “Shea. Hey, easy. Don’t fight.”

  The commanded words cut through her panic and she went still, recognizing that deep timber. She’d heard it whispered in her ear as they…

  “Kell?” Desperate. Afraid to hope.

  “Yes, it’s me.”

  Hesitantly, she turned her head to look at him, afraid it was a hallucination. She tried to reach up and touch his handsome face but her arms met resistance.

  “Are you real?” she whispered.

  His hand covered hers, twining their fingers together. “Does that feel real?”

  The breath left her body in one quick puff. “Yes,” she said, nodding. “Yes, it does.”

  Relief overwhelmed her. He’d found her. Came for her. Saved her.

  Too many emotions. She closed her eyes against the assault, trying to steady her breathing. Not the dark room. Not alone. Not dead.

  “Shea? Are you all right?”

  No, she wasn’t. She couldn’t process all the feelings churning inside her. She’d been on the brink of death and Kell pulled her back from the ledge.

  Drawing in a deep breath and letting it out slow, she opened her eyes and looked around. Hospital. Private room. Restrained.

  “Why am I restrained?” she asked, tugging on the straps.

  “They think you tried to kill yourself.”

  Shocked, she searched his face for truth, knowing he would give her nothing else. “Suicide? How?”

  Kell tightened his grip on her hand. “They believe you self-harm and—”

  “They think I did this to myself?” Her mind refused to accept that.

  “Yes, but, I let them.”

  She narrowed her eyes in disbelief. He did this to her?

  “Look, Shea, we don’t have much time. I let them believe you were my wife and you hurt yourself. We couldn’t risk them asking too many questions or looking into what really happened.”

  Mind spinning, she tried to wrap her head around his words. Her brain still felt cloudy, her body numb. Her thoughts just ran together instead of forming into sentences.

  “I’m going to get the doctor. You just rest, ok? Oh, and your name is Mrs. Penny Miller.”

  Mrs. Penny. Miller. She definitely couldn’t wrap her head around that. Kell didn’t give her anytime to adjust before he pushed the call button for the nurse.

  Seconds later, the room was swarming with people in scrubs and white coats. They messed with her I.V., the leads on her chest. Shot questions at her like missiles. She answered what she could, keeping her gaze focused on Kell, standing at the foot of her bed, offering silent support. And, making sure she didn’t blow their cover.

  Right now, that cover was the only thing she had to hold onto. Everything else seemed too complicated, too painful to think about.

  Finally, after some poking and prodding and endless questions, the room emptied out except for a middle-aged man in a white coat and a young nurse with pretty brown eyes.

  The doctor spoke first. “Mrs. Miller, do you understand why we have you restrained?”

  She nodded.

  “Do you have thoughts of harming yourself?”

  “No.”

  “Are you willing to speak to a psychiatrist about what you did?”

  Play along. No matter what. “Yes,” she answered, falling into character. This, she could do. Becoming someone else was familiar, like an old blanket. She’d spent most of her life pretending to be someone she wasn’t. If Kell needed her to play the suicidal wife, she’d give them the best impression they’d ever gotten.

  The doctor wrote in his chart and nodded to the nurse who left the room.

  “How do you feel right now?”

  “Tired. Scared.”

  That seemed to please the doctor. Keeping it real.

  “I assure you, Mrs. Miller, there is nothing to fear. We are here to help you and give you the best care possible.”

  “Thank you.” She swallowed hard. “I’m sorry for what I did.”

  The doctor patted her hand. “That’s the first step to well-being.”

  She nodded, biting her lip.

  “Everything else looks good. You’re blood cell count is back to normal and your vitals are within normal range.” He closed the metal chart and strode to the door. “Mr. Miller, may I speak with you for a moment?”

  Shea waited for the door to close before letting some of the tension out of her limbs. Kell came back in a few minutes later. She couldn’t read his expression.

  “After you talk to the psychiatrist they will remove the restraints. If the doctor recommends it. I’m sorry for all this, Shea.”

  She forced a smile. “It’s the perfect cover.” And, it was. No one questioned where she’d really gotten the bruises.

  Kell approached the bed. “You handled yourself perfectly.”

  “Like riding a bike.”

  “There’s more to this.”

  She knew something else was bothering him. He didn’t show it, but she sensed it.

  “There are repercussions of Diakameli’s assassination. I don’t have to tell you what’s going on out there.”

  Shea’s stomach dropped. No, he didn’t. She’d spent enough time in middle eastern countries to know what happened when the people decided to fight back. This time it was because of her. Indirectly, but she’d played a major role in bringing down Diakameli. She didn’t regret finding the bastard and handing him over, but she did regret the innocent lives that would be taken because of it.

  Her head began to ache, some of the pain returning to her body. Meds were wearing off. That was good. She needed a clear mind to think straight.

  “How bad is it?”

  “They’ve banned all air travel into the country.”

  Her stomach churned. Not good. Not good at all. They would be trying to get Americans out of the country, not letting them in. Things would be dangerous for any American in country.

  Cotton was filling her head again, making it difficult to pull her thoughts together.

  Kell’s voice broke through the fuzz. “I’ve got everything under control. You just get some rest.”

  Too weak to argue she nodded and let her eyes close. Kell was the only
man left she had in the world to trust.

  Cedar Falls, Michigan

  Evan Wolff landed a hard right jab to the punching bag, followed with a hook and an elbow. The soft thuds of his blows echoed through the empty gym. It had closed down hours ago, but the owner was a good friend of Evan’s and let him have a key to lock up with when he used the gym on late night’s. Like this one.

  With each strike images tore through his head. Ryan, cold and still in a casket being lowered into the ground. The tears in his mother’s eyes as she lay her youngest son to rest. Dani, red-eyed and weak with grief.

  The images haunted him, driving him to assault the punching bag even more. He didn’t know what to do with his grief. Felt it so strong he couldn’t sleep, didn’t want to eat. He should have been there. Should have been on the mission with Quinn and Kell instead of on another job.

  What good would that have done? The little voice in the back of his head pointed out. His brothers were good at what they did and he knew deep down that Quinn had done everything in his power to save Ryan. He was a medic after all. Saving lives is what he did. As a PJ and as a Wolff Securities operative.

  The Devil’s Advocate in the back of his mind argued that maybe, just maybe, if Evan had been there he would have been able to stop the bullet that killed his brother. Even when the logical part of his brain knew that was impossible. That bullet had Ryan’s name on it and there was no changing it. As much as he wanted to. More than anything he wanted to go back in time and change the course of history.

  Evan went through a sequence of moves. Jabs, hooks, uppercuts, knees and elbows. Joints flying in rapid succession. Sweat rolled down his face, his muscles protesting the vigorous workout. He’d put his body through the ringer lately. Using hard core workouts to dull the ache in his chest.

  He needed a fight. Unsanctioned. Bare-knuckle, down and dirty street fighting. In a blood-stained octagon without refs. It had been nearly a week since he’d fought and he was thirsty for more. There was something therapeutic about beating the crap out of an opponent who wanted to break you. The physical pain consumed the emotional and he needed that.