Rogue Agent Page 12

  Seth approached her in a single step, pushing his face into hers. “What did you do? Tell me.”

  Terra matched his glare. “Okay, I’ll play this game with you. I smoked a joint, alright. I’m not that fragile flower you make me out to be.”

  In that moment, a loud bang penetrated the din and a look of shock fell upon his face. His lips formed a perfect “O”, making her laugh.

  “Come on, Seth. Everyone does it.”

  When he stumbled forward into her arms, she knew something was wrong. Terra hadn’t noticed the entire club clearing out or the trio of gunmen entering the dance floor. Underneath the flashing strobe lights, she felt a wetness bleeding through Seth’s coat. Her palm was damp with freshly spilled blood.

  “Oh my God. Seth, are you okay?”

  He moaned. Terra glanced up and froze at the sight of the gunman locating her on the dance floor. The suited gunmen withdrew their weapons and stepped into the frenzy, their arsenal glistening under the strobe lights.

  Terra searched the room in a blind panic. Frightened dancers fled through a fire door down a darkened corridor and she followed them, dragging Seth into the sea. She hoped the crowd would swallow them up, shielding them from the gunmen.

  “Come on, Seth,” she urged, ignoring the searing heat in her chest. “We’re almost out.”

  The fire door led them to the back alley behind the club, where patrons spilled out into the cool air. They dispersed just as quickly, screaming for help and calling for the police.

  Terra chose to remain in the shadows and travelled the backstreets to their hotel three blocks away. Pressed against her, Seth, saggy limbed and in pain, moaned under his breath, becoming heavier and heavier with every step.

  Terra struggled to keep moving, knowing if the gunman searched the area, they would stick out among the business people and tourists like a sore thumb. She spotted their hotel and hurried her pace. “Don’t black out on me, Seth. We’re nearly home.”

  When she opened the door to their room, they collapsed onto the floor, panting. She knew the first priority was determining the severity of Seth’s bullet wound. With all her strength, she heaved him to a seated position on the carpet and carefully stripped his coat off.

  “Ow, fuck! What are you doing?”

  “I’m trying to save your life,” she replied through gritted teeth. She tossed the coat onto the bed and went in search of a first aid kit. All hotels were required to have one after New York Health had reduced funding for hotel employed doctors.

  “Terra, I’m not going to die,” he said, with a stifled groan. “It’s a shoulder wound. I’ll live.”

  She emerged from the kitchen holding a small white box. “I didn’t hear the gunshot. It must’ve been muted by the music. Do you know who they were?”

  Seth began unbuttoning his shirt. “Yeah, Spencer sent them. He’s getting closer every day.” He froze, his fingers hovering in mid-air, and gazed at her. “Those gunmen arrived as soon as you spoke to Samantha. Can she be trusted?”

  She sat down next to him. “Yeah, she can. Oh damn it, I never got her number.”

  “We’ll search for another safe house.”

  When Terra noticed him struggling to remove his shirt, she went to help, receiving a frosty stare in the process.

  “I’m fine.” He shrugged off the blood soaked shirt and tossed it across the room with his good hand.

  “I have some nursing experience, albeit from ten years ago, though I still know how to stitch a wound.” She reached for him again.

  “Terra, back off for Christ’s sake! I’m fine.”

  She shrank back, muttered under her breath, and scooted over to the mini bar where she poured a generous glass of bourbon. “Why are you so resistant toward me? You saved my life. I thought it was fair to repay the favor.”

  “I don’t need saving.” He shot out his hand. “Can I have some of that?”

  Terra refilled the glass and sat down next to him again. “Are you going to be nice and let me help you?”

  His clear eyes searched her face longingly, his mouth pressed in a thin line, his breath shallow.

  “So?” she prompted. “Is that a yes?”

  When she offered him the glass, Seth lashed out and caught her wrist, making the alcohol slosh onto the carpet. She exhaled a breath and stared back at him, her heart ricocheting against her chest bone. Danger flashed in his eyes.

  “What are you doing?” Her voice came out as a whisper. “You’re scaring me.”

  He took the glass and downed the liquid in one gulp. “Don’t get close to me, Terra. It will only end in heartbreak.”

  Before she could comprehend her actions, she leaned forward and closed the space between them to little more than a breath. They locked eyes and silence entombed them, their lips inches apart.

  She lowered her mouth over his and waited for a reaction. At first, he stiffened at her touch, and when he didn’t object, she deepened the kiss. Her fingers traced the outline of his jawline, feeling the prickle of a five o’clock shadow.

  Then he slid his arms around her waist, anchoring her to him. She had wanted him ever since he’d saved her life, wanted to feel his naked body pressed against hers, and wanted to feel him inside her. However, her passion was extinguished when the unsettling memory of Trix dying flashed in her mind. He was still mourning for his girlfriend. Being with him now, in this moment, didn’t feel right.

  She ended the kiss and abruptly stood, not wanting to see the expression on his face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  Seth frowned and pointed to the first aid kit. “Well, since you’ve left me hanging, can you at least help dig this bullet out of my shoulder?”

  Wordlessly, she obeyed and fished saline solution, a cleaning pad, and a pair of tweezers from the first aid kit. Positioning one knee on the bed, she dabbed the solution onto the pad and cleaned the bullet wound, unmoving when Seth flinched.

  “Have you been shot before?” she asked.

  “Twice actually,” he said, with a grimace. “Once in the leg and another in my left shoulder. It happened a few years ago when a target wasn’t properly searched and shot me. I was on desk duty for two months. Ouch!”

  Once the wound was clean, Terra picked up the tweezers. “Are you ready? Do you need anything for the pain?”

  He reached for the bottle of bourbon and took a swig. “Nah, I’m covered.”

  While she dug around in his shoulder for the bullet, Terra realized the last week with Seth had been the most fun she’d ever had. Yes, it’d been dangerous and risky, but the adrenaline high compared to nothing she’d ever done, not even the night her activist group released twelve rare red gibbons from high security captivity. Running into the night with bullets whizzing past her head had no match to the excitement she’d experienced over the last seven days.

  “Hey, watch where you’re digging!”

  Terra blinked back to reality and offered Seth a sympathetic smile when she noticed a trail of blood dripping from the wound. “Sorry, I’ve never done this. I’m doing my best.”

  “Oh, that’s comforting.”

  They sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the air conditioning unit grumble in the corner of the room. Terra continued digging gingerly, hoping the bullet hadn’t shattered upon impact.

  “Are we going to talk about what just happened?” Seth asked, turning his head to stare at her.

  Terra felt her stomach roll involuntarily, though chose to ignore it. “About what?”

  “You kissed me. Was that your plan all along?”

  The tweezers enclosed a hard, metallic object and she smiled. “Ah, I think I got it.”

  “Don’t avoid the question, Terra.”

  She removed the bullet and dropped it into a plastic kidney bowl. Reaching for the bottle of alcohol, she said, “I know it was foolish of me when you’ve only just lost Trix. I didn’t mean to. I guess I was coming off an adrenaline rush.”

  He didn’t even f
linch when she doused the wound in bourbon and dressed it in a fresh adhesive pad.

  “Regardless of what you may believe, I’m not close to anyone,” she said. “I don’t have any siblings and after my mother died, it was just my father and me. I’m sorry about Trix because I know how it feels to lose someone you love. Someone killed my father because of who I am. How can I live with that? After all these years, standing up for the little guy, fighting for what was right in the world, I ultimately put the bullet in the chamber. They wouldn’t dare shoot me so they chose the first living relative. You know what? Fighting for human and animal rights was my way of rebelling against my old man and it cost him his life. He was killed because of me.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “You keep telling me—or rather pushing it down my throat—that my dad was a criminal. Who was he, Seth? I think you and I have spent enough time together to tell me.”

  He let out a long, winded sigh and stood, running his free hand through his hair. “There’s something I have to tell you, but you’re not going to like it.”

  “Seth, you must tell me. For my entire life, I thought my father was a douche bag. We lived pretty well compared to the other kids on my street and I couldn’t comprehend how we had all these nice things while our neighbors drove shit cars and lived off entitlements.”

  “You thought your father worked as an accountant. Is that right?”

  She glanced at him questionably. “Yeah, he told me plenty of times.”

  “Terra, your dad wasn’t an accountant.” Seth rejoined her on the bed, sitting shoulder to shoulder. “He was a very well-known and connected arms smuggler, supplying terrorists and warlords in Africa the weapons they needed for genocide. He hid it very well and it took a lot of digging to find his true identity. David Bloom had arrest warrants with the FBI, DEA, and Interpol, as well as local enforcements. He was the best smuggler I’ve ever seen, careless, money hungry, and cold. He didn’t care for the lives he took or how much damage it caused. I had no hesitation when I ended his life.”

  Terra sat stunned for a few moments, processing Seth’s words, her head swimming. Her body ran cold, replaced with a surge of white hot heat in her gut. All she could see was her father’s dead body, brain matter sprayed onto the concrete. Fueled by remorse and grief, she launched at Seth, screaming, her hands balled into fists.

  “How could you? You killed my father!”

  He welcomed the blows, allowing her to hit, slap, and batter him. “I’m sorry. I would’ve never done it if I met you before it happened.”

  “What is that supposed to mean? Who are you, Seth?” she hissed. “I gathered you’re some kind of freak who runs around killing people without asking questions.”

  “Well, then you are correct. What you heard back at the park was true. I’m a hit man.” His lip curled bitterly. “I eliminate a certain breed of criminal from society. Murderers, kiddy rapists, rogue politicians, drug dealers, or people who scheme the system. We can go as high as Congress or as low as your local dealer down the street.”

  Curiosity piqued Terra’s interests. “Why do you kill these people?”

  “Spencer has made valuable contacts over the years—mayors, sheriffs and even presidents—who want a clean and crime free society. You’re going to have troublemakers wherever you go, but we try to remove them without the media catching a whiff. The public doesn’t know and we want to keep it that way.”

  “Have you ever been caught by local law enforcement?”

  He nodded. “A few times over my career, and Spencer always bought my freedom. We’re only known to a select few.”

  “And my father was just a name on your list?”

  “I didn’t want to kill him, but I had orders. If I let him go, I would have been killed too.”

  “I can’t believe you can think like that, Seth.” A hard lump formed in her chest, making it hard to breathe. “He was my father, a human being!”

  When he reached for her, she jerked to her feet and headed for the door. “Stay away from me. You’re the criminal, Seth, not my dad.”

  “Terra, please come back.”

  She slammed the door behind her and bolted down the hallway, pushing down the need to cry. If her one ally had betrayed her then she needed to take her life back by any means necessary.

  Chapter Twelve

  Seth sat on the corner of the bed for thirty minutes after Terra left, staring at a suspicious crimson stain on the carpet. The deep ache in his shoulder kept him planted to the spot, though he hoped Terra would return. He knew he should have mentioned his involvement in her father’s death from the moment they met, and if he had, would he have fallen for her or allowed her to kiss him? She tasted as sweet as a candy apple and her slim body felt like heaven pressed against him. Then like a fog, memories of Trix surfaced in his mind, taunting him. She hadn’t been dead for two days and he was already thinking intimately of another woman. Seth curled his lip bitterly and shook his head, removing Terra from his head. He had other things to focus on.

  He had no idea where she was. He had banished her cell phone and Terra was very savvy with public transport so she could be anywhere. He stood slowly, his shoulder protesting, slipping on his shirt with one hand.

  He needed help tracking her down in Richards County because he was certain that’s where she was headed. He picked up the telephone on the bedside table and dialed Jack’s cell phone number. He answered straight away.

  “Who’s this?”

  “Jack, it’s me, Seth.”

  The suspicion left Jack’s voice. “Buddy, where have you been? Everyone’s been looking for you.”

  His stomach flipped. “Everyone? What do you mean by that?”

  “The agency. Spencer released a memo the other day stating you’ve gone AWOL and he requests your appearance ASAP.”

  “Did it say anything about payment?”

  “Yeah, a thirty thousand credit bonus to anyone who brings you back to the agency unharmed.”

  “Jack, ignore Spencer’s goodwill. He has more sinister plans for me.” Seth pulled at a loose thread on the comforter. “What he is saying is true though. I’ve turned my back on the agency only because I’m trying to save a life.”

  “Lemme guess? The Bloom chick? Dawson spilled to me the other day. He said you didn’t kill her and screwed Spencer over big time.”

  “Yeah, it’s true. I couldn’t kill her, Jack and I still don’t know why. Maybe my conscience finally caught up with me.”

  “Why are you calling? I haven’t heard from you in weeks. What do you want?”

  “Have you returned from your forced leave?”

  “No, I’m staying with friends in Richmond, Virginia,” Jack said bitterly. “I needed a break from all the shit in New York. Did you know Terra almost date raped me and Spencer punished me for the bitch’s actions!”

  “Yeah, I heard, buddy. Hey, listen, I’m in the state too.” He picked up the hotel swipe card and flipped it over to see the logo. “I’m at Hotel 13 off Highway 396. Is that anywhere near you?”

  “About a thirty minute bus ride. Do you want me to meet you there?”

  “Nah, give me your address and I’ll meet you. I need a favor.”

  After he checked out from the hotel, Seth boosted an old Dodge from the car park and drove to Jack’s, keeping an eye out for any suspicious vehicles following him. He had to be on high alert now that Spencer had put a bounty on his head. He almost laughed out loud at the figure. Thirty thousand credits! He would have thought he was worth more than that.

  He located the street leading to Jack’s friends’ residence and parked the Dodge between two pickup trucks. He would walk the rest of the way. It was too risky to be seen by home security cameras.

  The red brick home was built beneath a canopy of oak trees, shielded from the sun’s rays. Seth felt an immediate drop of temperature when he knocked on the timber door. After waiting for a few minutes and hearing no response from inside, he knocked again. The d
ilapidated Buick in the driveway told him someone was home.

  “Jack, its Seth. Open up!”

  Impatience getting the better of him, Seth twisted the doorknob and stepped into the house. The vile stench of cigarette smoke, rotten food, and dog piss assaulted his nostrils. The living room was in shambles, showing the aftermath of what could have been a great party. Balls of raw Clandestine and used needles littered the coffee table, dozens of empty beer bottles were strewn across the carpet, and partially eaten pizza lay abandoned to the Schnauzer who bolted at the sight of him.

  Walking into the kitchen, he spotted the rest of the party, two men and one woman, passed out in deck chairs by the pool, half-smoked cigarettes dangling from their fingers.

  Seth continued searching the house, sidestepping pieces of clothing and rubbish down the hallway. A ball of dread grew in the pit of his stomach as he opened more doors to empty rooms. Jack was growing increasingly unstable, relying on his junkie habit to get through most hiccups of life. During his early days at Haroun, his skill and expertise had matched the best assassins, including Seth. After a bad hit four years ago, he’d fallen into a dark hole and still hadn’t climbed out. Judging by the state of this home, Seth was concerned about the type of people Jack was hanging out with. He was always a bad judge of character.

  He opened the door to the last bedroom and found Jack lying face first on the carpet, surrounded by a halo of dried vomit. Seth dashed into the room and knelt beside him, cursing under his breath. Jack must’ve relapsed after they spoke, and judging by the junkies outside, he wasn’t in good company.

  “Jack, can you hear me?” He pressed two fingers against Jack’s neck and breathed in relief when he felt a dull pulse. He was still alive, and wouldn’t be for long if Seth didn’t take action.

  Ignoring the jolt of pain in his shoulder, Seth heaved Jack’s limp body into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Cold droplets rained down on him as he positioned Jack in the tub.

  He sat on the cold, wet tiles and held his friend’s face up to the water spray, waiting for a response. Moments like this reminded him of the times he’d come home to find Trix in the same position, overdosed on Clandestine. He would restart her heart in the midst of panic before taking her to the hospital. Unfortunately, this time around, he couldn’t risk the trip. Spencer was getting closer every day.