No Way Out (TREX)

  NO WAY OUT

  TREX Adventure 4

  By Allie K. Adams

  A TREX ADVENTURE

  NO WAT OUT

  Copyright © 2013 by Allie K. Adams

  First E-book Publication: December 2013

  Cover design by Celia Kyle

  All art and logo copyright © 2013 by Allie K. Adams

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This Ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This Ebook may not be re-sold or given away to others. If you would like to share this book with others, please purchase an additional copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Allie K. Adams

  www.alliekadams.com

  TREX'S MISSION STATEMENT

  Tactical Retrieval Experts (TREX) is a privately funded agency independent of law enforcement, military, or any governmental restrictions. Our focus is on tracking and retrieving objects. Simply put: we find things. Employing highly-trained agents with extensive experience in covert operations and unlimited resources, we will find anything and with guaranteed confidentiality. No matter the circumstances. No matter the danger. Call on TREX—we find what's been lost.

  ONE

  Ten days.

  Ten days TREX Special Agent Steve Gessler had waited for this moment. Two hundred forty-two hours, seventeen minutes, and twenty-three seconds, to be exact. He'd had to endure the torture of watching the hottest women in the world parade around in string bikinis as he waited for his mark to make a move.

  No one suspected him as anything but a lifeguard, carefully watching the people come and go, no one the wiser that he sat here at the ready, just waiting. Sitting high on the lifeguard chair gave him the vantage point he needed to see all of Matira Point. The Tahitian beach attracted people from all walks of life. Beauty queens. Body builders. Men past their prime who should rethink the Speedo.

  And let’s not forget. Terrorists.

  One terrorist, in particular. Amoor Ashad. The guy made other terrorists look like amateurs without the balls to pull off the hardcore shit. Embassy hits. Train bombings. Hijackings. He didn't want survivors. He just wanted to kill and make a huge show out of it. The more deaths, the better.

  Tracking him here to one of the most popular beaches in the world was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing in that Steve would be able to neutralize him without much effort in the isolated location. The bastard had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. It was the curse that had Steve's gut twisting with uncertainty. The son of a bitch brought his family.

  Terrorists weren't supposed to have attractive wives and four kids all under the age of ten. They shouldn't look so goddamn normal. Happy. Like he was on fucking vacation.

  Using his binocs, Steve did another sweep of the point. Ashad and family were still fifty yards to his right, the kids playing in the water and dear old mom and dad laughing as they watched. Let the fuckstain enjoy his last day on this rock.

  Steve scanned the surrounding area, scoping out where he could complete the assignment without any witnesses. His phone rang and he set the binocs down to grab it. "Gessler."

  "This room smells funny."

  Steve rolled his eyes as he chuckled. Dan Weber, his TREX partner-in-crime, turned Special Agent in Charge of two field ops teams, turned SAC for the spec op they worked on together, now back to his original post of partner-in-crime. "That's because you're in it."

  "Fuck you, Broadway."

  "In your dreams, Hollywood." This wasn't a social call. Weber never made social calls. He always wanted something.

  "I take it the target hasn't been neutralized."

  "Would we still be here if it were?"

  "Goddamn it, Broadway." Weber sighed through the line. They were forced to use secured cell phones instead of their normal lip mics and receivers just in case Ashad had the area wired to pick up the slower baud rate of radio frequencies. "We've already been here too long. Quit dicking around and get it done."

  "You're just pissed I got the field on this one and you got stuck on the sidelines."

  "You're damn right I'm pissed. How does shit like that happen? I outrank you."

  "Yeah, but I look better in a bathing suit," Steve countered and laughed, drawing a chuckle from his eyes and ears on this op. "Give me a sweep."

  "Same as it has been for the past ten days. The target is wasting our oxygen. Terminate him already."

  "Quit barking like my SAC, asshole. That's Donovan's job now."

  "What? Being an asshole?"

  "That, too. I…uh… Hold up." Steve straightened as a new player walked into the kill zone. A small man, maybe a buck twenty soaking wet, hat hiding his little pin head and aviator sunglasses taking up most of his face, leaned his ass up against a rock formation.

  "What's up?" Weber's voice pulled Steve’s attention to the call.

  "We've got a visitor. My eight o'clock."

  "Shit. Rocks are blocking my view. Friendly?"

  "Unknown." Steve lifted the binocs and watched his new visitor. When the hat came off and a long mane of golden tresses came tumbling out, he sucked in a breath. "Holy shit."

  "What?"

  "Not a dude."

  "Excuse me?"

  "Not a dude," Steve repeated as his nerves immediately tensed, signaling that something wasn't right. "I gotta go."

  "Do you need backup?"

  "No. I'll take care of it."

  "Don't blow this so you can get laid."

  He did love blondes. "No promises."

  He ended the call and killed the sound in case Weber called back. Jumping out of the lifeguard chair down to the sand, Steve kept his attention on his new guest. Nothing was going to fuck up this mission, especially a pretty blonde in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  He grabbed his rescue buoy as he started toward her. Where a real lifeguard would use the buoy to actually rescue a victim, TREX retrofitted his to hold his .45 and a few other little goodies. If he used his as a float, he'd sink right to the bottom.

  The woman wasn't dressed for the beach. Who wore baggy pants and a jacket to the beach? The women Steve had been watching during this find didn't wear anything baggy. Hell, some of their suits didn't even cover the essentials.

  He narrowed his gaze on her as she moved toward his target. She had no reason to be there. Ashad sat off in a little cove area, completely private. If she walked up to him, it would spook him and he'd disappear again.

  And then she did exactly that.

  "Goddamn it." Steve reached inside the buoy for his gun. He didn't want to take her out, but if she was there for Ashad, then she was just as much his mission as Ashad himself.

  The woman reached into her jacket. When she pulled out a gun, Steve broke into a sprint. Fuck! She was another hitter. If she rounded that last rock, Ashad would see her and all shit would break loose.

  He had to give her credit. She either had balls of steel or was a complete rookie thinking she could just walk up to her target and take him out. Men like Ashad didn't vacation alone. They always had snipers at the ready.

  Steve jumped in front of her just as she started around the last rock. She yelped and staggered back. He took the gun from her and shoved it in his buoy in the nick of time. Ashad stood and nodded at the cave behind him. Two men with assault rifles hurried out and made a beeline for Steve and his new friend.

  "Collapse," he order
ed. She stiffened and jerked her sunglasses off. When she looked at him, her eyes so wide with fear and shock he knew his words didn't even register. He didn't want to but had no choice. He slammed the butt of his gun into the back of her neck and she buckled. He caught her with one arm as he hid his gun inside his buoy with his free hand.

  Ashad's guards rounded the corner and raised their rifles. "Qui êtes-vous?"

  Ah, local mercs. Ashad didn't speak French so he wouldn't have French-speaking hired muscles on his payroll. They had to have been brought in special just to protect him on this vacation. Too bad they'd fail.

  Steve nodded at the men as he laid her on the sand. Maybe if he got them thinking they were helping him, they'd be distracted enough for Steve to snap their necks. "Help me. M'aider."

  "You speak English?" The youngest of the men rested his gun behind him and approached. Dumbass move.

  "I saw her collapse and came running over."

  "I heard a cry."

  "That was me," Steve said with a grin. "Stepped on a rock." The other merc held back, his gun at the ready. Steve kept him in his peripherals. "What's with the guns?"

  "You go now." The man with his gun still pointed at Steve's chest stepped forward. "Leave da girl. Do not come back dis way."

  Leave the girl? Not a fucking chance. Steve brought up his hands and backed away. "Look, I'm just the lifeguard. I'm not looking for any trouble."

  "Den go," the guy lifted his gun higher.

  "I'm going." He grabbed the girl and lifted her over his shoulder.

  "I said leave da girl!"

  "What is the problem?"

  Steve froze as the devil himself spoke. He dropped the girl and then winced when she groaned as the sudden movement stirred her awake. He had to get through this fast, before she woke up and screwed everything.

  Amoor Ashad casually approached, his beady black gaze never leaving Steve. With off-white, loose pants and a partially buttoned shirt, he looked more like a playboy than a terrorist. Well, a playboy past his prime with the gray at his temples, but a playboy nonetheless. "Who are you? What are you doing with my au pair?"

  No fucking way did he hear that right. Steve swallowed his shock and kept an even demeanor. "This woman is your nanny?"

  Ashad continued to watch him, waiting.

  "I'm Steve," he said and offered his hand. "I'm one of the lifeguards."

  The terrorist didn't take it. "As you can see, I have my own lifeguards."

  "I'm not here for you," he lied.

  Ashad spiked a black eyebrow. "No?"

  Steve nodded at the girl at his feet. "Your nanny collapsed. I'm here to help her."

  "Collapsed, you say? That would explain why it took her twenty minutes to find the sunblock." Ashad dropped his gaze to her but did nothing to so much as check her breathing. Why the hell wasn't he a little more concerned about his nanny? Steve's suspicions shot up. "Bitten by something poisonous?"

  Nice try, fuckwad. "There's nothing poisonous here in Tahiti." Except for you.

  "Then perhaps—"

  A scream cut off the rest of Ashad’s statement. His eyes widened as he spun around and ran back behind the rock, his two bodyguards following him. Unable to stop himself, Steve left the girl and went after them, his rescue buoy with him. This could be the window he'd been waiting for.

  His wife screamed in Arabic and pointed at the water. Steve followed her attention and spotted the youngest of the Ashad kids splashing in a panic. His chest tightened. Christ, how the hell did he get out that far?

  Without a second's hesitation, Steve ran into the water, his buoy in hand. He couldn't leave it there and chance them discovering the weapons, but it was useless to him now. He let it drop and it sank down. He'd try to come back for it after dark.

  Swimming out to the kid, he caught him and held him above water. The kid wrapped his arms and legs around Steve tight as he trembled in fear. "It's okay. I'm a lifeguard."

  The kid burst into tears and Steve held him tighter. He was so tiny. Steve's gut twisted. Son of a bitch. No kid deserved a father like Amoor Ashad. If he were anyone else's, he'd grow up normal, play sports and climb trees, and go to college. But as an Ashad, he'd grow up learning how to shoot assault rifles and maybe even start a jihad to make Daddy proud.

  "What's your name?"

  "J-Jimmy."

  Steve didn't expect such an American name but said nothing as he easily brought them both to shore. Jimmy didn't loosen his hold until Steve had them completely out of the water. His mother cried and gathered him into her arms. She then threw her arms around Steve and kissed him on both cheeks.

  "You saved him. You saved him!" She hugged little Jimmy as the other kids gathered around her. Steve backed away, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Being a lifeguard, cover or not, had its benefits. He just denied the ocean from consuming an innocent life.

  "Why did you just stand there?" Ashad demanded from his bodyguards. They exchanged glances before both hung their heads. "The boy could have died out there! You were hired to protect me and my family. First you allow my au pair to collapse, pulling in a complete stranger to save her. Now this. You have failed me. I do not tolerate failure."

  Steve braced himself for the inevitable. Instead of Ashad putting a bullet in each of his bodyguard's heads, he turned and offered Steve a warm smile. "You saved my boy. I owe you a debt of gratitude. Please, join me for dinner tonight. I have a private bungalow not too far from here."

  Holy shit. Could it really be that easy? He'd spent days trying to find a way into Ashad's space without being detected. Now, here he was getting an open invitation. "Thank you, sir. I would like that very much."

  "No need to call me sir. You and I, we are equals, my friend. You may call me Mr. Ashad."

  Equals? Not only did that comment irritate him, but having Ashad call them equals and then tell him to call him Mr. anything really pissed him off. Steve kept up with his cover even though he wanted to stab Mr. Ashad in the throat by smiling and giving the asswad a smile.

  "Shall we say, eight o'clock?" Ashad added.

  Steve nodded. "I'll see you then."

  "Oh, and Steve?"

  Steve glanced over his shoulder. "Yes?"

  "I'll thank you to care for my au pair. Please have her return when she's feeling better."

  Something was off in Ashad's request. Steve couldn't place it but planned to do a little recon with Weber.

  Once he got the nanny’s story.

  TWO

  "What agency are you with?"

  Joanna McClure didn't know how to answer that question. Did he mean which au pair agency? Why should he care which agency she came from or whether she came from any agency? She didn't know this guy from anyone else on the beach other than he was American, judging by his accent. That didn't mean he couldn't be with the monster she’d followed here. She hoped he wasn't. Bad guys didn't deserve the body of an underwear model.

  She held the ice to the back of her head, wincing every time she shifted. Her head pounded and judging by the size of the lump the sexy asshole had given her, it wouldn't be easing any time soon. "I don't know what you're talking about."

  "Don't fuck with me, lady."

  Definitely American.

  "I know you were sent here to terminate Ashad. What I want to know is who sent you."

  Shock plunged through her body. How did he know about that? Jo collapsed back on the mini-couch in the hotel room he brought her to as the lifeguard just stood there leaning up against the far wall, his hooded gaze never leaving her. "What makes you think I'm here to kill him?"

  "Aside from you pulling a gun in the middle of broad daylight for everyone to see? I don't like the competition thinking they can come in here and fuck with my op. Who are you with? MI6? Don't look so shocked. You're English accent gives you away, sweetheart."

  "You think I'm with the Security Intelligence Service?" That would explain the question about the agency. "Let me explain something to you. Not every person
with a British accent is a bloody double agent."

  "I never said double agent." He pushed away from the wall and casually made his way over to the couch. Once he folded his large frame next to her, he turned and studied her. "I'm Steve."

  "Now you want to be cordial? What happened to pretending to be James Bond?"

  When he chuckled, it sounded as a deep rumble in his chest. She hated that she noticed it. "You're really not with an agency, are you?"

  She dropped her gaze as she lowered the ice to her lap. She never could look a person in the eye when she lied. "I came here seeking employment."

  "And you expect me to believe that?"

  Jumping her attention to him, she did her best attempt to feign innocence. "It's the truth." And it was. Sort of.

  "You just happened to be here at Matira Point the exact same time as Amoor Ashad. Instead of a bikini, which would have made you blend with all the other women on the beach, you go out dressed like that. Of course, you wouldn't have been able to hide your gun in a bikini, now would you?" He scooted closer to her on the couch and took the ice from her. When he rested it against the lump on her head, she winced and he lightened his touch.

  Jo smelled his musky scent and fought the urge to inhale deeply to really take him in. "If you must know, I'm working for Mr. Ashad. Wearing a bikini would have been inappropriate in front of his children."

  Steve relaxed on the couch as his expression softened, though he still held distrust in his dark gaze. "Do you make it a habit of pulling a gun on your employer?"

  "I'm not talking to you about this." She tried to push herself off the couch, only to have him gently ease her back down. Her head pounded and she covered her forehead with a hand. "Did you have to knock me out?"

  "I did ask you to collapse," he pointed out way too easily, irritating her. He didn't have to be so damn smug. Gorgeous men like him always were. Dark coffee eyes. Sandy blond hair. Oh my God perfectly sculpted muscles. Men shouldn't be allowed to look that good and still be 'A' grade pricks.