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Two times a year, she came here, always at night, always undercover. One was on her birthday and the second was on the date she had been kidnapped. The day that innocent girl had died and transformed into a shade.
It hurt. It always hurt, but she didn’t allow the hurt to make her do something stupid. This was her reality and the goddamn aftereffects of being kidnapped and forced into sexual slavery. She’d learned the valuable lesson of being strong and determined at the age of fifteen, when she’d been taken and used. She’d learned to depend on no one but herself and developed the courage to take chances and fight for what she believed in or wanted.
She’d gained a new existence and relied on only three men in her life. Axel “Volk” Beck was her partner and would remain with her through thick and thin. He always had her back.
Boyce “Preacher” Carmichael, the man she wanted on a level even she couldn’t describe or understand was never far from her thoughts, the memory of him burning through her veins.
And Ja Savic, the POS who had taken her. She was certain of only one thing, tracking him down and making the man who had destroyed her life pay.
Volk was a steady constant, Preacher an aching unknown, and Savic a matter of time.
She stared up at her parents, until they disappeared from the window for bed. Her throat cramped, and she squared her shoulders, trying to will away the sting of tears, angry with herself. This spook didn’t cry ever and certainly not about the impossible. She could never go home again.
Pushing off the tree, she walked down the road to her car, her cell chiming. She answered and listened intently. One of her men was in her crosshairs. Far away on his home turf. Savic was on the hunt. Bosnia, Banja Luka to be exact, was her new destination thanks to her underground source.
The owl swooped from the tree and scooped up a small, running mouse. She smiled, a cold upturn of her lips.
She could still catch the glow of the candle, shining like a beacon in the window of her parents’ home and she paused before getting into her vehicle.
As a ghost she may have some restrictions. But she also had abilities and the freedom to come and go as she pleased, anonymity, and one special power—haunting the living.
Haunt them until they paid for their misdeeds.
* * *
Preacher sat backagainst the orange webbing that was behind his fold-down seat in their transport jet. Even in getting from one place to the next, SEALs didn’t own their space. They were guests of the US Air Force in the air or US Army on land. Ice was sitting next to Rose, who was considered a strap, people who simply weren’t Tier One operators, and regulated to the tail section of the plane. She would be their point with the powers that be in Banja Luka.
From what he could glean from the interaction between his boss and his wife, the ministry of finance and the National Assembly of the Respublika Srpska were very concerned about foreign citizens, expressly those in Banja Luka assisting with their stock exchange and considered to be of very high importance and value. The word was they were extremely distressed by the kidnappings as they had developed a good working relationship with Morton and Wolcott.
He looked over at Kodiak, who took a seat next to him. He was eyeing GQ, who was sitting staring off into space. He used his chin to nudge toward their teammate.
“Bruised ego?”
Preacher shrugged. “I don’t think so. Something deeper?”
“Perhaps. As a corpsman, I don’t have anything for that except speaking your truth.”
“What’s this about speaking your truth?” Boomer asked as he plopped down on the other side of Preacher. His gaze followed over to GQ. “Aw, the golden boy butt-hurt about being idolized by females everywhere. Boohoo.”
“Everyone has their cross to bear,” Preacher said. “Sometimes being beautiful isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Like I said, speak your own truth.”
“Or what? Karma will bite me in the ass?” Boomer said.
“Karma is a bitch?” Skull said, his eyes rich with humor
“Do you even know what karma is, Boomer?” Kodiak asked.
“Yeah, play nice or you’ll get yours in the end.”
“That’s right, crude, but right.”
“Hey, I know something about your Holy Cow ways.”
Kodiak chuckled. “Are you talking about Hinduism?”
“Right. Aren't you part Indian? Don’t you guys worship cows or something?”
“That would be my grandparents. They settled in Alaska way back. Now, I’m a Christian guy. My Eskimo/Indian family blended, and my beliefs morphed. Doesn’t mean I wasn’t schooled in the way of Hinduism, and I do really love some of the concepts, but I worship just one God.”
