Read Online Betrayed (Hostage Rescue Team Series Book 9) by Kaylea Cross - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kaylea Cross
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unable to move. Her face was wet, and she knew it wasn’t just the rain.
A string of images flashed through her mind, one after the other, at high speed. Of her earliest memories of her mother. Her Valkyrie-trained sisters who had once been like family to her. Of Frank.
And Miguel.
As the vision of his hard, handsome face swam through her mind, a sharp burst of grief detonated in her chest.
She’d never expected to care about him. Had never imagined there was so much decency and kindness inside him after all that he’d done. Yet in him, she’d seen her own chance at redemption. A fleeting dream shattered by a few well-placed bullets.
Maybe I’ll see him again, she thought, a wild surge of fear mixed with hope rising inside her.
Even as she thought it she knew it would never happen. After the lives she’d taken in this life, she would never go to heaven, even if such a realm existed.
Her body was limp, her muscles lax. She knew she was dying. But there was no peace, no warmth or floating sensation she’d heard people talk about after having a near death experience. There was only a cold so intense it burned, the drugs searing her veins as they sped through her bloodstream.
The night vision goggles were still in place. Her disoriented gaze landed on a fallen leaf inches in front of her face, snagged and focused for a moment. The raindrops collected on its surface looked like tears.
The sky is crying for me because no one else will.
It was her last thought before the black wave of unconsciousness engulfed her.
****
What the hell?
Nico lifted his head from where he’d been staring through the scope of his rifle and scanned the area around him, just to be sure. Seeing nothing but branches and foliage in the green glow of his night optics device, he quickly looked back through the scope again.
He didn’t have a clear view but Georgia was definitely down, and she wasn’t moving. Shit. It was supposed to be his kill. He’d chosen this spot specifically, had planned everything out, all for nothing. When he’d talked to that old timer in the bar earlier, he’d thought it had been his lucky break.
The long-time resident had seen a woman matching Georgia’s description heading down the deserted road last night. He’d told Nico about the old miner’s cabin down by the creek, then Nico had found and followed the rain-washed tracks in the road.
He had no idea why she’d chosen to hole up here, but he didn’t care. He’d been so sure the lead would give him the edge on her and whoever else was targeting her.
Who the fuck had shot her? The individual set of tracks he’d seen before had been fresh and well to the northeast. He’d been careful to move southwest, away from the road, to avoid any contact until he was able to identify who it was. And this shot had come from a spot that whoever had made those tracks could not have reached in time.
Which meant there was another threat out here for him to worry about.
He shifted his rifle an inch to the left, tried to get a better look at her. He’d seen her stumble into view through the screen of trees seconds ago, then she’d just collapsed. He knew several organizations had a vested interest in taking her out. Knew that at least two other assassins were lurking in these woods tonight.
Bautista.
The hair on the back of his neck stood up at the mere possibility. If it was Bautista, if he was that close without Nico being aware of it, then Nico needed to move. Fast.
Because if Bautista was aware of his presence, then it meant he was living on borrowed time. And if Bautista wasn’t aware yet, chances are he soon would be.
Careful not to disturb the brush that had served as his camouflage, Nico picked up his rifle and eased back behind the sturdy tree trunk a few yards behind him. Nothing moved in the undergrowth around him, there was no sound except for the steady patter of rain and the distant rush of the creek below.
It didn’t ease the dread
A string of images flashed through her mind, one after the other, at high speed. Of her earliest memories of her mother. Her Valkyrie-trained sisters who had once been like family to her. Of Frank.
And Miguel.
As the vision of his hard, handsome face swam through her mind, a sharp burst of grief detonated in her chest.
She’d never expected to care about him. Had never imagined there was so much decency and kindness inside him after all that he’d done. Yet in him, she’d seen her own chance at redemption. A fleeting dream shattered by a few well-placed bullets.
Maybe I’ll see him again, she thought, a wild surge of fear mixed with hope rising inside her.
Even as she thought it she knew it would never happen. After the lives she’d taken in this life, she would never go to heaven, even if such a realm existed.
Her body was limp, her muscles lax. She knew she was dying. But there was no peace, no warmth or floating sensation she’d heard people talk about after having a near death experience. There was only a cold so intense it burned, the drugs searing her veins as they sped through her bloodstream.
The night vision goggles were still in place. Her disoriented gaze landed on a fallen leaf inches in front of her face, snagged and focused for a moment. The raindrops collected on its surface looked like tears.
The sky is crying for me because no one else will.
It was her last thought before the black wave of unconsciousness engulfed her.
****
What the hell?
Nico lifted his head from where he’d been staring through the scope of his rifle and scanned the area around him, just to be sure. Seeing nothing but branches and foliage in the green glow of his night optics device, he quickly looked back through the scope again.
He didn’t have a clear view but Georgia was definitely down, and she wasn’t moving. Shit. It was supposed to be his kill. He’d chosen this spot specifically, had planned everything out, all for nothing. When he’d talked to that old timer in the bar earlier, he’d thought it had been his lucky break.
The long-time resident had seen a woman matching Georgia’s description heading down the deserted road last night. He’d told Nico about the old miner’s cabin down by the creek, then Nico had found and followed the rain-washed tracks in the road.
He had no idea why she’d chosen to hole up here, but he didn’t care. He’d been so sure the lead would give him the edge on her and whoever else was targeting her.
Who the fuck had shot her? The individual set of tracks he’d seen before had been fresh and well to the northeast. He’d been careful to move southwest, away from the road, to avoid any contact until he was able to identify who it was. And this shot had come from a spot that whoever had made those tracks could not have reached in time.
Which meant there was another threat out here for him to worry about.
He shifted his rifle an inch to the left, tried to get a better look at her. He’d seen her stumble into view through the screen of trees seconds ago, then she’d just collapsed. He knew several organizations had a vested interest in taking her out. Knew that at least two other assassins were lurking in these woods tonight.
Bautista.
The hair on the back of his neck stood up at the mere possibility. If it was Bautista, if he was that close without Nico being aware of it, then Nico needed to move. Fast.
Because if Bautista was aware of his presence, then it meant he was living on borrowed time. And if Bautista wasn’t aware yet, chances are he soon would be.
Careful not to disturb the brush that had served as his camouflage, Nico picked up his rifle and eased back behind the sturdy tree trunk a few yards behind him. Nothing moved in the undergrowth around him, there was no sound except for the steady patter of rain and the distant rush of the creek below.
It didn’t ease the dread
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