Read Online Aegis Security 03 - Extreme Measures by Elisabeth Naughton - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Elisabeth Naughton
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comes in handy now and then. As you know.”
He did know. It was part of the whole spook gig. “What now? The real hippie owners are bound to show up at any time.”
“True, but we’re not staying here. We’re heading there.” She nodded toward a camper RV perched on the back of a beat-up truck in line four vehicles up. “And eventually, we’re going for that.” She pointed toward an ambulance parked two rows over. “I gotta get that arm of yours bandaged before infection sets in.”
Zane’s gaze drifted to the out-of-service ambulance, which looked like heaven to him. There had to be narcotics of some kind in there.
He glanced past the ambulance. Guards with bomb-sniffing dogs moved between vehicles. They waited until security moved past the ambulance, then wove through cars until they reached the back of the RV. Lights from above shone down over the pier in the early evening light. Far off in the distance, the approaching ferry grew bigger on the horizon. Luckily, the driver wasn’t in the cab yet, but they had only minutes before he or she returned.
Eve slinked around the back of the camper, reached up for the door handle, and whispered, “Yes!” Zane checked to make sure no one was watching, then climbed into the back after her and closed the door.
The camper was musty and dark. A bathroom closet gave way to a kitchen sink on the left. A too-tight table and bench seats sat to the right. Ahead and up three steps, a bed loomed above the canopy of the truck, and thick denim curtains covered the small windows.
Fatigue settled in as Zane eyed the messy comforter and mattress he knew couldn’t be comfortable but right now looked like an inviting cloud. He’d been awake going on twenty-four hours, fueled by revenge and adrenaline, and as light-headed as he felt, he knew the blood loss from the wound in his arm was catching up with him. He swayed on his feet.
Eve’s hand landed against his chest. “Whoa, big guy. Careful there. Archer? Are you okay?”
No, he wasn’t okay. Her hand felt way too damn good, even through the thin T-shirt. And he knew he was seriously losing it if he was reacting to her. He’d gotten over Evelyn Wolfe the day she’d turned her back on America. Had gotten way over her the day she’d set his team up in Guatemala. He was only with her now because he wanted answers. And then wanted to see her pay.
I work for the CIA. Counterterrorism.
Her words crept back into his brain, and with them, doubt. She’d been under the influence of amobarbital then. There was plenty of literature to say truth serums didn’t work, but amobarbital had a tendency to make people ramble even when they wanted to stop, which was why it was still used. That didn’t mean she’d been telling him the truth, though. She’d been trained in the same tactics he had. And she’d convincingly lied to him for months while they were in Beirut. She’d even gone so far as to screw him to keep him from finding out the truth. She knew how to beat the system. And yet . . .
As he stared down at her in the dim light coming through the thin curtains, he couldn’t stop hearing her voice in his head. The only words she’d said in that warehouse that had brought him to a stop.
I loved you, you son of a bitch! Why would I try to get you killed?
“Archer?” She looked up at him with those big amber eyes. Eyes that had drawn him in from the first. “What is it?”
He forced himself to look away. Tried to break the spell she was using to suck him under all over again. Failed because he still felt her hands on his chest and wanted—dammit—those hands everywhere. Even after everything she’d done.
“I . . . I need to sit down,” he managed. “I’ll be fine in a minute.”
She shifted so he could move past her to the bench, her body brushing his in the process, igniting heat all along his skin. He ground his teeth so he didn’t reach for her and focused on the pain lighting up his biceps and thigh. She
He did know. It was part of the whole spook gig. “What now? The real hippie owners are bound to show up at any time.”
“True, but we’re not staying here. We’re heading there.” She nodded toward a camper RV perched on the back of a beat-up truck in line four vehicles up. “And eventually, we’re going for that.” She pointed toward an ambulance parked two rows over. “I gotta get that arm of yours bandaged before infection sets in.”
Zane’s gaze drifted to the out-of-service ambulance, which looked like heaven to him. There had to be narcotics of some kind in there.
He glanced past the ambulance. Guards with bomb-sniffing dogs moved between vehicles. They waited until security moved past the ambulance, then wove through cars until they reached the back of the RV. Lights from above shone down over the pier in the early evening light. Far off in the distance, the approaching ferry grew bigger on the horizon. Luckily, the driver wasn’t in the cab yet, but they had only minutes before he or she returned.
Eve slinked around the back of the camper, reached up for the door handle, and whispered, “Yes!” Zane checked to make sure no one was watching, then climbed into the back after her and closed the door.
The camper was musty and dark. A bathroom closet gave way to a kitchen sink on the left. A too-tight table and bench seats sat to the right. Ahead and up three steps, a bed loomed above the canopy of the truck, and thick denim curtains covered the small windows.
Fatigue settled in as Zane eyed the messy comforter and mattress he knew couldn’t be comfortable but right now looked like an inviting cloud. He’d been awake going on twenty-four hours, fueled by revenge and adrenaline, and as light-headed as he felt, he knew the blood loss from the wound in his arm was catching up with him. He swayed on his feet.
Eve’s hand landed against his chest. “Whoa, big guy. Careful there. Archer? Are you okay?”
No, he wasn’t okay. Her hand felt way too damn good, even through the thin T-shirt. And he knew he was seriously losing it if he was reacting to her. He’d gotten over Evelyn Wolfe the day she’d turned her back on America. Had gotten way over her the day she’d set his team up in Guatemala. He was only with her now because he wanted answers. And then wanted to see her pay.
I work for the CIA. Counterterrorism.
Her words crept back into his brain, and with them, doubt. She’d been under the influence of amobarbital then. There was plenty of literature to say truth serums didn’t work, but amobarbital had a tendency to make people ramble even when they wanted to stop, which was why it was still used. That didn’t mean she’d been telling him the truth, though. She’d been trained in the same tactics he had. And she’d convincingly lied to him for months while they were in Beirut. She’d even gone so far as to screw him to keep him from finding out the truth. She knew how to beat the system. And yet . . .
As he stared down at her in the dim light coming through the thin curtains, he couldn’t stop hearing her voice in his head. The only words she’d said in that warehouse that had brought him to a stop.
I loved you, you son of a bitch! Why would I try to get you killed?
“Archer?” She looked up at him with those big amber eyes. Eyes that had drawn him in from the first. “What is it?”
He forced himself to look away. Tried to break the spell she was using to suck him under all over again. Failed because he still felt her hands on his chest and wanted—dammit—those hands everywhere. Even after everything she’d done.
“I . . . I need to sit down,” he managed. “I’ll be fine in a minute.”
She shifted so he could move past her to the bench, her body brushing his in the process, igniting heat all along his skin. He ground his teeth so he didn’t reach for her and focused on the pain lighting up his biceps and thigh. She
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