Chasing Danger (9 page)

Once they were gone, he turned to Aliyah to find her standing next to one of his many tables, her arms wrapped around herself. She looked so lost and vulnerable and though Claus had always thought himself a nonviolent man, he knew in that moment he would have no problem putting a bullet in Tasev’s head to save his daughter. For the past two years he’d done nothing but dream of killing the man who held him hostage and forced him to do unspeakable things.

He cleared his throat. “They brought you clothes, bedding, and an iPad. But you won’t have any Internet.” Or so that fool Tasev thought. Claus would have only one chance to contact outside help. For two long years he’d waited for something like this. He’d gotten a message to one of his friends—who worked for the NSA—two years ago but he’d been taken before they could meet up. She was smart but there was no way for anyone to track him when he’d been unable to communicate with the outside world.

Until now.

He was going to have to try again even with the risk. At this point he would risk death if he could just get a message to his friend Meghan Lazaro. If she knew he was still alive she’d help him. He had no doubt.

FFP: final firing position (sniper term).

Selene Wolfe chewed on a piece of teriyaki beef jerky as she lay flat on her belly, looking through the glass of her Leupold Mark 4 scope. She’d been in position for only five hours waiting for her target to show his face. Ramsey Jurden, a freaking white supremacist terrorist. She hated these guys. Especially ones with a predilection for kids. Yeah, this job wasn’t going to sit heavy on her soul. Not like some of the others.

Normally Wesley didn’t give her anything he didn’t think she could handle anyway. Her specialty was computers, which made her a valuable asset to the NSA. It was the sole reason they’d recruited her at the age of sixteen. But when he’d hired her she’d insisted that he give her any training she asked for. After years spent living on her own she knew what it was to be helpless and she’d sworn to herself that it would never happen again. Since she couldn’t very well train herself and anyone she hired wouldn’t be nearly as good as someone Wesley could recommend, she’d been quite insistent on her terms of employment. So he’d given her everything she wanted—because he’d have done pretty much anything to ensure she worked for him—which meant she’d got to train with the very best.

Her weapons mentor, as she liked to think of him, was a retired USMC sniper school instructor. He’d been a hard-ass and hadn’t cared that she was a woman. If anything, she guessed he pushed her harder than normal because of her gender. Which was fine with her. He’d given her a valuable gift, one nobody could ever take away from her.

Knowledge was the ultimate power. Something she never took for granted.

She understood computers and thanks to her instructor she understood what it was to protect herself and her country. Considering that roughly fifty percent of the decisions she made at work ended up setting black ops missions into motion, she was thankful that she had an understanding of what the field people had to do all the time. Taking a life wasn’t something she did lightly and she knew they didn’t either. It would have felt hypocritical to know that her decisions sent people into the field to kill when she had no concept of what they were doing or the impact of carrying out those ops.

Slight movement to her left had her shifting her Remington 700 a fraction. Two horses trotted out of the barn, shaking their heads and tails, clearly happy to have freedom.

Without looking at her watch she knew the time was near. If her target didn’t show up today at two she’d have to come back next Wednesday. It had been impossible to get the man’s schedule since those in his growing organization were loyal.

Had to give the guy that. He inspired loyalty, even if it was misplaced. She wondered how loyal they’d be if they knew he was a freaking pervert of the worst kind.

After some on-the-ground recon—which meant she’d flirted shamelessly with the delivery guy at the local feed store—she’d discovered that the target insisted on being at his family’s ranch when the horse and other animal feed was delivered every Wednesday.

She figured he liked to micromanage or maybe it was just a weird quirk. She didn’t know and she didn’t care.

Another flash of movement caught her eye and anticipation started to build inside her, a steady hum that sharpened all her focus as she readied herself for what she was about to do. The delivery truck was making its way down the dusty country road. One of the guards at the gate talked to the driver before checking the back of the truck. No surprise, the guard then had the driver get out and frisked him for weapons. Once he was waved through, Selene slowly shifted her weapon toward the house and sure enough her target exited with two guards, one on either side. She’d expected more personal guards but Jurden clearly felt safe enough on his family’s ranch. Which she understood. His perimeter security was good.

She was better.

A doable shot, but not good enough. His guards might not be innocent, but that wasn’t her decision to make. She had very specific orders.
One shot, one kill.

Which would cut the head off this burgeoning organization before it grew too big. A couple of well-respected think tanks at the NSA had run scenario after scenario with Jurden and if he was allowed to grow more powerful he would cause irreparable damage. He’d already bombed three schools in inner-city neighborhoods, making it look like gang violence. Hundreds of children and teachers had died. And he thought he’d gotten away with it. But bombs leave a unique signature and the man he hired to make the bombings had flipped on him a few months ago to the FBI.

Before that Jurden hadn’t been on anyone’s radar. Now the FBI, NSA, CIA, and a whole lot of other three-letter organizations were currently working to take apart his terrorist cells. It was insane how he’d managed to avoid detection. Insane and scary. They’d have eventually figured out who he was but by then it would have been too late—well, later than it was considering the loss of life.

His cause would have been bigger and his followers more radical. For once her people had a chance to stop a terrorist organization before it grew unstoppable.

Looking through her scope, she tracked his movements, watching as he talked to the delivery guy, smiling and laughing as if he was just a normal guy, before he headed to the barn. He ran a hand through his blond hair, his blue eyes clear through her scope. She carefully watched his movements and deducted that he wasn’t wearing a vest under his shirt. It wasn’t always possible to tell but Jurden’s movements were too relaxed and his shirt was unbuttoned enough that she was almost positive. So she wouldn’t have to take a head shot. It was almost time.

Her heart rate kicked up the slightest notch but did nothing to alter her concentration. If anything she was hyperaware of her surroundings. It had taken her a solid two hours to get into position and the past five that she’d been sitting on the property had been mundane, but now the familiar hum of adrenaline coursed through her.

She’d chosen this specific hillside for her final firing position because it was the only area where she could make a rapid escape. The reverse slope of the hillside gave her perfect cover and concealment for her escape and evasion route. No one would even know where she’d set up. Not when she was in her homemade ghillie suit and had camouflaged herself with vegetation from the surrounding area. They might figure it out later, but it would be way too late to serve any purpose and she’d be in another state by then.

Everything else around her ceased to exist as she watched him ride out of the barn on a beautiful stallion. His two guards were with him, but riding far enough behind that they wouldn’t be an issue.

Focusing, she made wind calculations using the grass and mirage at the halfway point to her target. That was something Hollywood got wrong a lot in movies. When snipers calculate wind they don’t do it off where the target is. They do it at the halfway point because that’s where the bullet is at its highest point of trajectory and the wind has the most effect upon it.

Based on the calculations from her range card, she used one of her favorite tactics, the ambush method. She placed the crosshairs of the scope at the point where she knew her target would ride.

She pushed out a deep breath. Steady mind, steady hand.

Three, two . . .
She stopped breathing and pulled the trigger.

She hit him center mass. Because of the high caliber, he tumbled backward off the horse, a red stain blooming across the front of his shirt. From there, panic ensued with the two guards and others running from the house and barn, weapons drawn.

That was her cue to get the hell out of Dodge.

An hour later as Selene cruised down the highway in a fifteen-year-old Ford truck with a bad paint job—but a pristine engine—and dressed in a button-down flannel shirt and worn jeans, she put the battery into her burner phone and made the call. Her weapon and ghillie suit were hidden in a secret compartment underneath the toolbox in the back, so even if someone decided to search it, they’d never find it.

Her boss and friend, Wesley Burkhart, answered on the first ring. “Well done.”

“It’s confirmed?”

“Yep. Already hit the news stations.” Burkhart was hard to read, but Selene had known him long enough that even though his tone was muted, she could tell he was happy with the results. “And eighty percent of his cells have already been dismantled. We’ll be leaking the truth of his perversions to the media in a few days.”

Maybe she shouldn’t have been surprised his death had already hit the news considering Jurden’s family was richer than some small countries. His parents had died five years before, under suspicious circumstances, leaving their massive fortune to their sole heir. Even if he’d been found guilty of his terrorist crimes and ended up in prison, according to the analysts, he would have been able to gain an even bigger following. Selene shuddered as she ran over the potential casualties in her head. “Soon I’m going to switch vehicles but I’ll be back at base in about two hours.”

“Good. Listen, I know you were planning to take a vacation after this but I’ve got a job for you. It involves Tasev.”

Selene’s eyebrows rose at the name. Tasev—first or last name, no one knew for certain—was a true monster. With no allegiance to any country, the man had gouged a huge path of destruction for about a decade, selling weapons to the highest bidder and funneling eastern European women all over the world for the right price. No one had ever been able to get a mole inside his organization either. Then about five years ago it seemed as if he’d fallen off the face of the earth. Some thought he was dead. She’d guessed so too. “He’s still alive?”

“We don’t have visual confirmation but it appears so. You’ll understand why when you read the files. Tasev is planning something huge and we’ve got five days to stop him. But . . . Tasev might be involved with Meghan Lazaro’s murder.”

Bile rose in Selene’s throat and she clenched her fingers tight around the steering wheel. Meghan Lazaro had been a good agent, a good woman, and when she’d been tortured and killed she’d left behind a broken husband. A man who by all accounts had been a freaking Boy Scout before her death. At least according to his files and everything Wesley had ever said about the man. Now he’d gone off the reservation and was on a dark path of vengeance. Selene shook her head, suddenly weighed down with sadness. “Does Lazaro know of his involvement?” If Levi found out about this, he’d do everything in his power to take out Tasev himself.

“I don’t know but I’m sending you all relevant files. You can be on the ground or not. It’s your choice. You’ll be a valuable asset either way.” She knew he was giving her the option because of her unique training. For a job like this she’d be a strong asset whether in the field or in the comm center.

“Ground.” She said instantly. And it wasn’t because she wanted to bring down Tasev, though she definitely did. She wanted to help Levi Lazaro. The man had gotten a raw deal and she knew how easily he could get caught in the crossfire if there wasn’t at least one person looking out for him. “See you soon.”

Katie Reus
is the
New York Times
and
USA Today
bestselling author of the Deadly Ops novels, which include
Targeted
and
Bound to Danger,
and the Moon Shifter novels
.
She has a degree in psychology and lives near Biloxi, Mississippi, with her husband, who was a Marine scout/sniper and currently works as a police officer and SWAT team sniper.

Connect Online:

katiereus.com

facebook.com/katiereusauthor

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