Page 63 of Acting on Instinct
Her foot came off the gas, and Kira was grateful for the hill rising in front of her to check her speed before she slid into that break between the trees onto one of those unpaved between lanes where the cops hid.
She had half-hoped that there would be a police officer sitting there. Instead, she came out, her wheels bump-bumping, onto the other side. She used the oncoming truck's headlights to see well enough to jerk her car into the far lane.
Thankfully, there was no telltale truck horn. The driver probably missed the black car gliding across his path.
When the truck was parallel, Kira flipped her lights back on, protected by the broad side of the eighteen-wheeler.
It wasn’t exactly what her dad had done, but she was glad to have had a plot in her mind.
At the next ramp, Kira once again left the highway. She parked a short distance away in a dark space between two delivery trucks at the gas station, with its sign for showers and an all-night café. She made herself sit there for a full twenty minutes, her clothes damp from sweat, her cheeks tingling with adrenaline.
She was tired. So tired.
She had slept poorly the night before, and none at all for the last twenty-four hours, except for her post coital nap with Ty when she clung to him, thinking that this was it, and knowing in her soul that he was safe, the danger was coming to her.
After the robbery, she’d thought that Fate had been averted; she was neither kidnapped nor killed, and maybe everything would be okay.
Then the ring.
The ring.
Kira peered down at it, fat and ugly on her finger, knowing that the warning was folded inside the secret compartment.
Now, all she could do was run.
Chapter Twenty
Ty
So far, their mission was on point. They’d arrived in Paris, hit the rack for some zzzs, and now that it was evening, they moved through the plan.
The brothers in the first apartment were the easiest. They were so deeply involved in their video game that the operators crouched behind their gaming chairs, wrapped a hand around their mouths, and jabbed them with Ketamine.
Each time they visited an apartment, they were another man down as one of the team stayed back to babysit their target, zip-tied at the ankles and wrists, and medicinally restrained for good measure.
They’d found one in the shower by listening at the door with their parabolic ear.
White’s list of habits was holding. They seemed well-regulated. Dinner, shower, bed.
But showers were short, and the distances between the apartments were not.
If Ty were working with dangerous materials all day, his nerves would be shot, and he’d fall exhausted into bed at night, too.
The last two targets before Ty went after Phossy Jaw took a bit more skill. The team had to cut the power to the apartment building and use night-vision gear. Outside in the hall, the team played music loud enough to cover the scratch of their lock picks but soft enough not to draw attention from the neighbors.
The doors complained as they were pushed wide. Fortunately, T-Rex could see, and the target could not. Each time, T-Rex took a mighty step into the room and grabbed the target in a bear hug.
It had to be a mind-bending experience to be lying down, counting sheep, hear the screech of hinges, then get snatched up like a rag doll to dangle, trapped so tightly around the arms and chest that not a peep could come out of your mouth.
Ty stood ready with Rory while Havoc rushed forward with the shots.
Havoc was quick with the zip ties as Rory sniffed the room, finding only an old shoe that caught his attention. Meanwhile, T-Rex jabbed the second, longer-lasting, shot into the guy’s thigh and laid him on his left side in a rescue posture to help keep him from suffocating.
“That’s number four, a wrap.” T-Rex’s voice was robotic as he used bone microphones to speak without sound. Those vibrations were translated by the computer into words the team could hear through the magnetic devices they dropped into their ear canals. And White, back at the improvised tactical operations center, could tick another item off their mission list. It was like a magic act, communicating freely without anyone around them hearing a sound.
“On to number five. T-Rex, over.”
Five went much like the last apartment. Surprise and swiftness of action were the keys to success. T-Rex would be hanging out in the apartment, while Ty would move on to Phossy jaw with Rory as his backup.
