WAR: Opposition: (WAR Book 3) Read online

  While Seth began to roll open the main door, she studied the plane. It looked like one of those planes you’d see in films from the 1950’s, with a propeller on each wing and the same rounded nose as a commercial jet. There were two windows behind the wings and one in front, not counting the cockpit. She had no idea how many people it could carry.

  The hangar appeared large enough to accommodate a plane twice the size.

  Seth finished rolling open the door and the strong stench lessened enough that she dropped her hand from her face.

  “It will take a few minutes for me to complete the preflight and get her ready for takeoff,” he said. “Go ahead and stow your pack.” He strode over to the side of the plane and opened the door.

  Bullets slammed into the plane’s windscreen.

  “Down!” Seth yelled as he ducked underneath the plane.

  Kirra swallowed her scream, dropped to her belly, and rolled away from the direction of the shot.

  The small window on the plane’s open door shattered. Seth swore. He’d pulled his own gun, but didn’t fire. Probably because he couldn’t see the shooter.

  Kirra glanced frantically around for a place to hide. The portable racks of equipment were all tidily lined up along the walls, providing plenty of room for the plane to maneuver but no shelter for her. She crawled toward the back door, trying to keep the plane between her and the open hangar door at the front.

  A bullet pinged off the left propeller. Another bit into the hangar floor mere feet from her face, kicking up concrete shards. Feeling the sting as a piece cut the back of her hand, she turned her face away and squeezed her eyes closed.

  “On my count, run for the back door!” Seth yelled.

  What?

  Kirra raised her head. Seth yanked open the door to the plane’s interior. With him temporarily blocked from the shooter, he pulled out an emergency flare.

  “One.”

  Staying prone, Kirra levered her arms underneath her body and curled her toes under.

  Bullets slammed into the wings in a measured, even line. Seth lit the flare, held an oily rag to the burning wick until the rag ignited, then threw both of them underneath the front of the plane where fluids had puddled thanks to a leak caused by the bullets.

  “Two,” Seth called out.

  Kirra shoved up into a sprinter’s crouch.

  The flames ignited the pool of liquid. Seth tossed something onto the fire that immediately caused thick, black smoke to fill the air, obscuring them from the shooter’s sight.

  “Three. Go!”

  Kirra bolted for the door, zig-zagging to provide a less stable target in case the smoke thinned. Bullets continued to pepper the plane behind her. Lungs burning from the smoke, she reached the door and dove for the handle.

  A bullet smacked into the metal door centimeters from her fingers.

  She pulled her hand back with a low scream of frustration, then immediately grabbed the handle and pulled. It stopped moving after a few centimeters.

  “Seth!”

  “I’ve got it. Stand back.” Another bullet hit the back wall farther to the right. Seth jerked the door open and shoved Kirra through. She stumbled, glanced back at him, and her heart stuttered.

  Here was the killer she’d sensed back at the bar. Death peered from his cold eyes.

  “Run into the jungle.” He pointed to the path they’d come in on. “Take the first fork to your right. I’ll catch up with you. Go!”

  She ran. Arms and legs pumping, she sprinted through the forest, occasionally stumbling over a root or being hit in the face by a branch. But fear kept her moving forward.

  Right fork. Right fork. Where was the right fork?

  The path separated. Kirra ran right. A roar sounded behind her. Her heart kicked with panic and she leapt off the path, ducking behind a palmetto plant.

  The roaring quieted. “Kirra!”

  Seth halted the motorcycle next to her hiding place. “Quick. Get on. I don’t know how long it will take the shooter to work his way around the hangar and find our trail.”

  Kirra scooted out from her hiding place and slipped onto the bike. A second backpack filled the previously empty right pannier.

  “Hold tight!”

  As soon as Kirra hugged her arms around Seth, he gunned it.

  Fuck.

  Seth steered the bike through the jungle. Yeah, he’d wanted the assassin to find him, but not when he was with Kirra, damn it. Thank God he’d war-gamed this area right after he’d rented his bungalow. It was a technique he’d learned from a grizzled mercenary early in his time on the run. “War game it, boy,” the man had advised. “If you’re in a hotel, learn how to navigate your room in the dark. Learn the layout of the hotel, where the exits are, and where you can hide. That way, if someone comes for you in the middle of the night you’ll make it out alive.”

  Seth had war-gamed not only his bungalow, but the town, the hangar, and all the land and roads around it. He knew that this path would soon join a small road that would eventually loop around to the main coastal highway.

  More importantly, Seth had stashed a Land Cruiser in an abandoned garage a quarter mile from the main highway. He and Kirra needed the protection of the vehicle’s darkly tinted windows. If they remained on the motorcycle, once they hit the main road people would spot them and spread the word. The last thing they needed was for someone to recognize Seth and report to either Bureh or his blackmailer that Seth now had a female companion. Neither man would hesitate to use Kirra as extra leverage.

  He ducked a low-hanging branch, then swerved the bike around a downed tree. The fast pace combined with the slap of branches and the sting of the wind in his eyes was a hell of a better rush than flying his damn plane. But nothing beat the pure power and thrill of piloting a Black Hawk over enemy terrain.

  The bike skidded around a turn as it caught a patch of softer earth. Kirra shifted her weight to stay with him with an ease that proved her an experienced rider. Another anomaly. She didn’t look like the motorcycle type. She looked more like the riding-a-horse-bareback-down-the-beach type. Yeah. He could picture her in some gauzy dress, her wild hair streaming behind her as the sun turned it to gold.

  Great. Way to go, fantasizing about a woman instead of paying attention to keeping them alive.

  Seth scanned the vegetation ahead for a particular crooked tree trunk. There. “Hang on!” He took the bike off-road into a shallow, sandy gully, and then up the other side. Seth held the bike steady, gave it just enough gas and waited for the special tires he’d invested in to gain traction. The engine strained and sand spit up from the wheels as the tires bit in. The bike clawed its way up the remaining feet and over the rim.

  “Yeah, baby!” He patted the bike with one hand, then slalomed through the grove of thin coconut trees toward the road.

  Seth could not figure out what type of game the assassin was playing. And it had been his assassin shooting at them. If it had been the rebels, they’d have riddled the hangar with bullets, not caring what they hit. Even though the shots hadn’t taken out Seth or Kirra, they’d been strategic. So yeah, it was the assassin. What Seth needed to know was why, when the assassin could have taken Seth out at any time, he’d dicked around instead, shooting at the plane and targeting Kirra.

  Fury still burned in Seth’s gut over that. He was supposed to be keeping her safe. Not exposing her to an assassin who’d decided that civilian casualties were acceptable. Seth knew the man’s reputation. He didn’t miss. He didn’t take unnecessary shots. Which meant he’d decided to play with Seth.

  Dammit, if the assassin couldn’t be counted on to kill him, how was he going to protect his family?

  Seth reached the road and opened up the throttle, thankful that this late in the morning there was minimal traffic. Still, word would spread quickly about the white couple riding a motorcycle.

  As they flew down the road, Seth admitted that it was too dangerous for Kirra to stay with him. Being with him put her in the ki
ll zone for the next attack by the assassin. Wracking his brain, he finally realized that there was only one way to ensure Kirra’s safety without derailing his plan to die.

  He turned the bike onto the path that led to the abandoned garage. It took another five minutes to reach the spot, which appeared blessedly undisturbed. Seth pulled behind the building and cut the engine.

  “Why are we stopping?” Kirra asked.

  “We’re too conspicuous on the bike. I have a vehicle stored here.” He waited for Kirra to climb off, then dismounted.

  She shook out her arms and glanced around. “Um…the shooter…”

  “I didn’t see or hear any sounds of close pursuit. Besides, the dirt on this road is hard enough that he wouldn’t be able to tell for certain which way we went without flagging down cars. And no one in this region is going to stop and volunteer information to a random white guy carrying a gun. We should have a cushion of time before he finds us.”

  Kirra crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “He was after you, wasn’t he? The shooter. Because according to the media, the rebels usually spray bullets everywhere, while the person back at the hangar only took a few specific shots in order to destroy your plane. Plus, you just said that he’s white, yet we didn’t see him.”

  He deserved every ounce of condemnation and fear in her eyes. “Yes.”

  “I could have died because you’re in even worse trouble than I am.”

  “Yes…No…Dammit, I had no idea that anyone was staking out my plane.” He’d seen no sign of the assassin and stupidly assumed that the man hadn’t found the hangar yet. “Do you really think I’d rescue you from the rebels only to deliberately put you in harm’s way like that?”

  She raised her brows. “It’s not as if I really know you. Maybe you have a death wish and don’t care if you take me along with you.”

  He winced.

  “Why is there a shooter after you? What have you done? What have you involved me in?” Kirra’s voice rose in accusation.

  He shook his head. He’d known better than to try and help her, but he’d hoped this time would be different. “Once we transfer our gear to the truck, I’m going to run you up the coast. There’s a place that’s part of an underground network that smuggles high-target individuals out of the region before the rebels get them.” He’d anonymously given the people who ran it details on his flights a few times, hoping they’d pass the information on to the authorities and ruin the deals involved. “They’ll find a way to keep you safe.”

  Kirra studied him a long while with eyes that burrowed past his brash exterior. Yeah, no matter how sweet and innocent she appeared, there was knowledge in those eyes that only came from hard experience.

  “Who. Is. That. Shooter?” she demanded with icy annunciation.

  “Kirra—”

  “This is my life. Tell me.”

  He blew out his breath. “He’s a trained military assassin.” Kirra’s brows rose, but she continued looking at him expectantly, waiting for an explanation. “He’s after me because…” This far out, he wasn’t sure who still wanted him dead. Or why they’d restarted the hunt now.

  “You’re right. You’re not safe with me. I’m responsible for the deaths of hundreds of innocent people.” Even now, almost three years later, the chill fingers of horror tightened around his heart. His throat closed around the screams of denial and rage that wanted to burst free.

  Kirra flinched. But instead of backing away, she studied him through narrowed eyes. “When I walked into your living room this morning, you shut off the radio. Was there something on the news about your assassin?”

  “What?” Shit, he’d forgotten about that. “No. Uh…” He rubbed his jaw. “Are you sure you want to hear this now?”

  “I’m not getting into any vehicle with you until I understand exactly what’s going on.” She had that stubborn set to her chin again.

  “Fine. According to this morning’s news, all the passengers on your bus were killed. The authorities believe it was a rebel attack, but are still searching for those responsible. There was no mention of you having survived.”

  Kirra paled and sat down heavily on the bike. “Everyone?”

  “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

  “How?”

  “Kirra, don’t. It’s better if you not have the image in your mind.”

  She pushed to her feet and got up in his face. “I watched them shoot, interrogate, then kill the nice man who sat next to me. I need to know how the others died. There were children on that bus. I need to know…” She sucked in air. “I need to know that…” Her voice cracked. Shaking her head, she started to turn away.

  Ah, fuck. “Kirra.” He pulled her against him. She resisted, then let him enfold her in his embrace.

  This isn’t helping to convince her you’re dangerous.

  Seth ignored the little voice. “The news report said most people were killed execution style. One bullet to the back of the head. It’s a fast death.”

  She shuddered, then pushed away from him. He expected to see tears, but instead her eyes blazed with fury. “Those murdering bastards! Why? What the hell are they looking for that’s worth killing babies over?”

  “I don’t know. But it means that they’re not going to give up looking for you. That’s why I want to get you to the underground network. They can keep you hidden until the rebels are dealt with. Because anything so important that they’ll kill for it means they won’t hesitate to follow you home. Or to your concert.”

  She shook her head. “Forget it. This concert is personally important to me. I won’t back out, no matter what.” She nodded toward the garage. “Shouldn’t we be on our way?”

  “Stubborn woman.”

  She arched a brow at him. For some reason, he found that incredibly sexy. The same way he’d found it a turn-on when she’d ordered him to set the furniture to rights last night in the bar.

  “All right,” he said. “Wait here while I check that the vehicle is still here and in good condition. Then you can transfer over your gear.” He unlocked the door to the garage, palmed his pistol, and sidled inside. All was as it should be, but then, he’d thought that at the hangar hadn’t he? Instincts on high alert, he pulled the protective covering off the truck, then did a thorough external and internal check for damage, electronic bugs, or bombs.

  Once he decided it was clear, he motioned to Kirra and transferred his backpack and the medical kit he’d grabbed from the plane. The back of the truck already held a case of bottled water and some MREs he’d stolen from one of the rebel groups he’d worked for. So they were set for a while.

  “I’m going to take a personal break,” Kirra said, nodding out the window toward the bushes behind the building.

  “What?”

  “Um…toilet.” Her cheeks reddened.

  “Oh. Right.” While he waited for her to return—she’d left her pack in the truck so he knew she wasn’t trying to bug out—he stowed his bike, then checked his text messages to see if there were any Rebel Tracker Radio alerts for the area. Nothing. Good.

  Kirra returned, looking remarkably composed for a woman who’d had her life turned upside down the past few days. On first glance her wild hair and artsy, flowing top gave her the appearance of an innocent flower child, yet the dirt and new scrapes covering her face, neck, and hands told a different story. Underneath she was tough, with the resilience that came from surviving against deadly odds. The type of woman that appealed to Seth on a very basic level.

  He really wanted to know her story. Hell, he wanted to know everything about her.

  Are you sure she’s not conning you?

  Hearing a faint sound, he tipped his head down and saw that he’d started flicking his thumbnail against his index finger.

  “Okay, I’m ready.” Kirra walked around to the passenger side.

  They didn’t speak on the drive to the main highway. By the time they reached the outskirts of the medium sized town down the coast, the traffic had pi
cked up. Seth threaded his way through the other vehicles, accepting the occasional angry honk directed his way, and dueling with taxis and single-passenger motorcycle taxis for the right of way. Spotting a traffic jam up ahead, he swerved onto a side street and wound through the sprawling suburbs.

  Ten minutes later, he slowed. The neighborhood they needed to enter was blocked off by government military vehicles.

  “What’s going on?” Kirra asked.

  Seth shrugged and lowered the window enough to hear the outside noises. “I don’t hear music, so it’s probably not a festival day. No sound of gunfire, either.”

  Kirra also lowered her window. “That sounds like someone giving a speech.”

  “Yeah. It’s election season, so probably it’s a political event.” He raised their windows.

  “What now?”

  “We try to find another way in.” He took a series of side streets, trying to get them closer to the people who could ferry Kirra out of the country, but each way was blocked. Eventually he parked in a shady, out-of-the-way street, then tapped his fingers against the steering wheel while he reconsidered his next move.

  Yeah, he decided, the people with the underground network were still Kirra’s best bet. He double-checked the coordinates of their small arts gallery on his phone. They were only four blocks away. “All right, Kirra. I’m going to walk you over now.”

  Without a word, Kirra shouldered her backpack. She followed him silently through the deserted residential neighborhood to the section where it melded with a number of artistic businesses. An occasional cheer from the crowd floated their way, indicating that the rally was a peaceful affair. Even though the rally explained why there were less people out on the street than usual, Seth’s instincts remained on edge.

  “Okay,” he said several minutes later, stopping Kirra in the shade between two buildings. “From here you’ll go on alone. It’s too dangerous for you to be seen with me. Stick to this side of the road until you’re opposite that bright green building. Then head over as if something in the front yard drew your eye.”