Aegis Security 03 - Extreme Measures by Elisabeth Naughton Page B
Authors: Elisabeth Naughton
Ads: Link
chance she got.
Which, for her, was harder said than done. Because regardless of what he’d done, this was Zane Archer . The only man she’d never truly gotten over.
“These breasts might just save your life. Watch and learn, Archer.”
Zane’s arm was on fire, and his leg hurt like a son of a bitch. Somewhere between the top of that warehouse and the bottom of Puget Sound, he’d lost his pain pills, and he was cursing his shitty luck because in another hour he was going to be seriously hating life. More than he already was.
He followed Eve away from the port and toward the pier, the two of them careful to stay in the shadows and dart into crowds whenever they could. They got looks—especially Eve in that Daisy Duke top and obscenely ripped skirt—but Seattle was an eclectic city known for bringing out all kinds. Though every car that sped by on the busy street sent Zane’s already-soaring adrenaline into the ozone. No way those goons had given up looking for them.
Who the hell was she working for? She’d disappeared from the CIA a year and a half ago, after he’d caught her playing double agent in Beirut and told her to get lost. Since she’d screwed his mission in Guatemala, he’d been trying to find her, waiting for the moment to strike, but the woman knew how to disappear. She’d only just recently popped up on his radar.
Shit, he should have turned her in back in Beirut. He knew that now—knew it then—but something had held him back. Something inside him that had wanted to believe she wasn’t the traitor she appeared to be. Guatemala had changed his thinking for good, though. And now . . . Holy hell, people had likely died today in Seattle—on American soil—all because of her. All because he hadn’t been able to do what needed to be done.
This time was different. This time he wasn’t letting her get away. This time she’d answer for everything she’d done.
She drew up short on the sidewalk in front of him, shoved a hand against his chest, and pushed him into the wall of a building. “Stay here. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
Before he could grab her, she disappeared into a tourist shop. His head was foggy, the pain messing with his reflexes. Just as he was about to go after her, she reappeared and handed him a navy-blue T-shirt that read I RODE THE SLUT ( SOUTH LAKE UNION TROLLEY ) .
“Here. Put this on.”
He was still trying to process the fact she hadn’t taken off when she helped him drag the shirt on so it covered his wound. “Where the hell did you find money in that getup to pay for these?”
She dropped flip-flops on the ground, slid her feet into them, and then tugged him back into the crowd. “I didn’t. Move fast.”
Great. Now he could add theft to her list of crimes.
He followed as she quickened her pace, gritting his teeth with every step that sent pain spiraling up his bad leg. Rounding the corner, he spotted Pier 52 and the ferries that linked Seattle with Bremerton and Bainbridge Island.
She was right. A ferry out of here would get them far enough from the city where those goons couldn’t find them, but getting on one wasn’t going to be as easy as it sounded. Security guards roamed the area, peering into cars, stopping pedestrians. Of course security would be on heightened status after that bombing downtown. He scanned the area, then realized that could work to their advantage.
He reached back for his wallet, but Eve’s hand on his arm stopped him. “No, don’t. Drenched dollar bills are going to get us stopped, and if those guys figured out who you are, I guarantee they’re now tracking your credit cards.”
“We have to get tickets.”
“No, we don’t. Because we’re going through there.”
She nodded toward the passenger reentry gate on the Bainbridge side of the lot. Two security guards manned the entrance. One was talking to passengers as they passed in and out of the gate, and the other was searching a woman’s bag. Beyond
Which, for her, was harder said than done. Because regardless of what he’d done, this was Zane Archer . The only man she’d never truly gotten over.
“These breasts might just save your life. Watch and learn, Archer.”
Zane’s arm was on fire, and his leg hurt like a son of a bitch. Somewhere between the top of that warehouse and the bottom of Puget Sound, he’d lost his pain pills, and he was cursing his shitty luck because in another hour he was going to be seriously hating life. More than he already was.
He followed Eve away from the port and toward the pier, the two of them careful to stay in the shadows and dart into crowds whenever they could. They got looks—especially Eve in that Daisy Duke top and obscenely ripped skirt—but Seattle was an eclectic city known for bringing out all kinds. Though every car that sped by on the busy street sent Zane’s already-soaring adrenaline into the ozone. No way those goons had given up looking for them.
Who the hell was she working for? She’d disappeared from the CIA a year and a half ago, after he’d caught her playing double agent in Beirut and told her to get lost. Since she’d screwed his mission in Guatemala, he’d been trying to find her, waiting for the moment to strike, but the woman knew how to disappear. She’d only just recently popped up on his radar.
Shit, he should have turned her in back in Beirut. He knew that now—knew it then—but something had held him back. Something inside him that had wanted to believe she wasn’t the traitor she appeared to be. Guatemala had changed his thinking for good, though. And now . . . Holy hell, people had likely died today in Seattle—on American soil—all because of her. All because he hadn’t been able to do what needed to be done.
This time was different. This time he wasn’t letting her get away. This time she’d answer for everything she’d done.
She drew up short on the sidewalk in front of him, shoved a hand against his chest, and pushed him into the wall of a building. “Stay here. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
Before he could grab her, she disappeared into a tourist shop. His head was foggy, the pain messing with his reflexes. Just as he was about to go after her, she reappeared and handed him a navy-blue T-shirt that read I RODE THE SLUT ( SOUTH LAKE UNION TROLLEY ) .
“Here. Put this on.”
He was still trying to process the fact she hadn’t taken off when she helped him drag the shirt on so it covered his wound. “Where the hell did you find money in that getup to pay for these?”
She dropped flip-flops on the ground, slid her feet into them, and then tugged him back into the crowd. “I didn’t. Move fast.”
Great. Now he could add theft to her list of crimes.
He followed as she quickened her pace, gritting his teeth with every step that sent pain spiraling up his bad leg. Rounding the corner, he spotted Pier 52 and the ferries that linked Seattle with Bremerton and Bainbridge Island.
She was right. A ferry out of here would get them far enough from the city where those goons couldn’t find them, but getting on one wasn’t going to be as easy as it sounded. Security guards roamed the area, peering into cars, stopping pedestrians. Of course security would be on heightened status after that bombing downtown. He scanned the area, then realized that could work to their advantage.
He reached back for his wallet, but Eve’s hand on his arm stopped him. “No, don’t. Drenched dollar bills are going to get us stopped, and if those guys figured out who you are, I guarantee they’re now tracking your credit cards.”
“We have to get tickets.”
“No, we don’t. Because we’re going through there.”
She nodded toward the passenger reentry gate on the Bainbridge side of the lot. Two security guards manned the entrance. One was talking to passengers as they passed in and out of the gate, and the other was searching a woman’s bag. Beyond
Similar Books
