Dire Distraction Page 3

  Avery nodded his thanks, then grabbed his beer and made his way through the crowd. The man was still sitting at the table where the woman had been. He’d tipped his chair back so that he could lean against the wall, his eyes on the other patrons in the bar. Watching. Avery recognized the façade even though the man was clearly doing his best to blend in.

  Smart move.

  In the Golden Triangle, it was probably the safest mode of operation. This was, for all practical purposes, still a frontier. People living life balanced on the edge of a sword. One wrong move and each would be faced with certain disaster. Staying alert in this part of the world was the key to staying alive.

  Avery stepped through the archway, his eyes moving again to the woman with the raven hair. She was bending over a table, shifting the pool cue to line up her shot. With one swift move, she drew back the cue and sent the balls flying, three of them spinning into adjacent pockets. Shifting slightly, she lined the cue up again and took a second shot. And then a third and a fourth, effortlessly clearing the table.

  The men gathered around her cheered, several letting their gazes linger too long on the curve of her behind as she straightened and shrugged in the direction of a man wearing a faded flak jacket.

  “Better luck next time, Edward.” The woman’s voice was deeper than he’d expected, slightly raspy, and, even more surprising, American.

  “Hell,” the man said, his accent marking him as British, “You’re a Yank. I should have known you’d be a ringer.”

  The woman laughed and then turned, her emerald gaze both assessing and admiring, the combination disconcerting. It wasn’t often that someone caught him off guard. But for one moment, Avery felt as if everyone else in the bar had disappeared. As if it were just the two of them—an electric current stretching tight between them.

  Then with a slight twist of her lips, she turned away, taking the shot of whiskey the Brit was offering, downing it with a single swallow.

  Avery forced himself to look away, instead concentrating on the rest of the crowd, trying to figure out which of them was the guide the CIA had arranged for him.

  “You look lost.” It was the woman again, this time her eyes teasing him.

  “No,” Avery shook his head, answering her smile with his own. “I’m just looking for someone. Sydney Price?”

  Her smile widened. “Well, you’re in luck, then. Although slightly confused.” She stuck out her hand. “I’m Sydney Price. Who the hell are you?”

  * * *

  Syd’s stomach did a double flip as she looked up at the big man standing in front of her. As his hand enveloped hers, she had to remind herself to breathe. When her boss had called to tell her to expect some bigwig from the States, she’d pictured some tight-ass pencil pusher. An overprivileged asshole with too much money and all the right connections.

  The image was a far cry from the man standing in front of her. This man—this very big man—was clearly not a politico. Every inch of him screamed warrior. The closely cropped hair, the predatory stance, the way he held his head, even the way he shook her hand. This was a man who took prisoners and asked questions later.

  His sheer physical presence would make most men cower. But there was also something else, something unexpected. It was there in his eyes. A wisdom at odds with his strength. And an intensity that hinted at some deeper emotion. Some inner power that was far more dangerous than anything he might be capable of physically.

  “Avery Solomon,” he was saying, his deep voice surrounding her like a warm blanket on a chilly night.

  She swallowed, pulling herself into check. She had obviously let her imagination run away with her. Just because the man was better looking than she’d anticipated didn’t mean he wasn’t still going to be a pain in the ass.

  And besides, she wasn’t the kind of woman to fall all over herself for a man. It was just the booze talking. She shook her head, and extracted her hand, striving to gain control again. He was the stranger here. And it wasn’t as if she’d just fallen off a turnip truck. This was her turf. She’d been undercover along this stretch of the Mekong for more than three years now. And in that time, she’d delivered more credible intel on the Southeast Asian drug trade than any operative before her.

  And push come to shove, she was every bit as much a warrior as he was. Strength wasn’t only about size. It was about the entire package. And bottom line, she was at the top of her game. Which was totally contradicted by the fact that the man’s mere presence had completely gobsmacked her.

  Hell, the whiskey had clearly gone right to her head.

  Chapter 3

  It should be fairly simple.” Avery Solomon sat back, his dark eyes giving nothing away. “All I need for you to do is ferry me back upriver and guide me to Shrum’s compound. It’s my understanding that it’s a couple hours’ walk from the landing.”

  Syd sighed, wishing she were thinking more clearly. They’d managed to snag a table in a quiet corner of the bar, but Avery had insisted on getting a bottle of whiskey. Which, on top of the other alcohol she’d consumed, meant that she was feeling no pain.

  Normally she didn’t drink on the job, but the close call in the jungle the day before had set her nerves on edge, despite the fact that she’d come out on top. People in this part of the world didn’t forget easily. And despite the fact that she’d let the man live, she knew she’d made an enemy.

  And so she’d allowed herself a moment of freedom, thinking that her encounter with Avery would be brief and about nothing of consequence. Her superiors hadn’t bothered to apprise her of his mission. Just the fact that he needed transportation. She’d assumed it was some sort of fact-finding mission or possibly political glad-handing. Instead, he was expecting her to take him into the heart of the Triangle, a part of Myanmar that even the country’s own military avoided.

  And to make matters worse, he wanted to find Martin Shrum. A minor player, he was nevertheless a crucial one. Because of his interference, several of her team’s operations had gone south. Intel lost, kingpins escaping. He might not be trafficking drugs on a major scale, but he was certainly in bed with the people who were. And despite the fact that the suits at Langley had ordered her to turn a blind eye, there was no one she knew who wouldn’t like to see him taken out of the equation—permanently.

  Of course, given the chance, she’d be the first in line. So maybe this operation would turn out to have value after all.

  “Getting to Shrum will be anything but simple.” She pushed her half-empty glass back, her mind moving away from the past as she began to consider their options. “He’s tucked away in a hill retreat that’s hard to reach on a good day. And with the rainy season beginning, the odds of one of those is diminishing by the hour. Add to that the fact that he isn’t keen on visitors, and we could have a real problem.”

  “He’ll see me,” Avery said, his words brooking no argument. Syd had the feeling that Avery Solomon was the kind of man who usually got what he wanted. No matter what kind of obstacles stood in the way.

  “You’re friends?” she asked, the idea making her stomach turn. Part of her job was to be able to accurately read people, and she’d lay money on the fact that Avery was someone to be trusted. And Shrum was most decidedly not.

  “We were. Once, a long time ago.” Avery paused, his gaze clouding with memories, the fingers on his left hand tightening into a fist. Whatever had gone down between the two of them, it hadn’t been good.

  “So you want to read me in?” She probably shouldn’t have asked. She’d been told that the mission was need to know. But she wasn’t fond of flying into a situation blind. Especially where Shrum was involved.

  He exhaled slowly and tilted his head, clearly considering how much he wanted to share with her. “We were partners back in the day. When he was still with the company. And then we had a falling out. I haven’t talked to him since.”

  “And now?” she prompted, studying his face, listening for something in his voice to identify his true i
ntentions.

  “Now, it’s possible he has something that belongs to me. And if it turns out to be true, I’m here to take it back.”

  “Sounds personal.” She sat back, completely sober now, her mind turning over the possibilities.

  “It is.”

  “Well, then I’d say you must have some friends in pretty high places for the brass to have allowed you to use operatives on a mission like this.”

  “Actually, they wouldn’t let me use my own team.”

  “You’re still working?” She tried but couldn’t keep the surprise from her voice.

  “Are you saying I look that old?” His eyebrows lifted, his expression amused.

  “No, I just thought—I mean, the way it was presented to me, it seemed like you were someone out of the game.”

  “And now that you’ve met me…” He trailed off, the side of his mouth lifting in a crooked grin.

  “I’m revising my opinion. Clearly, they should have told me that you were a working operative. Then I would have—”

  “What? Killed the fatted calf?” He was openly laughing now, reaching out to pour himself another round. “So they didn’t tell you anything?”

  “Just that you were coming and that it was need to know. Oh, and that I should do everything in my power to make sure that nothing happens to you.”

  “And so you assumed I needed a guardian angel.”

  “I assumed you actually needed my help. If you’ve got your own unit, then you sure as hell don’t need me.” She sat back, feeling irritated without really knowing why.

  “I just told you, they didn’t want me to bring them down here. There were other, more important battles to fight.”

  “But they didn’t object to your coming.” It was a statement not a question, but she said it anyway.

  “I pulled in a few favors. As you said, I’ve got some friends in high places.”

  “And this mission is important to you.”

  “Vital.” A shadow passed across his eyes, and for a moment, his defenses lowered, and she saw a glitter of pain. “And you’re wrong about my not needing you. I might not need your protection, but I do need your knowledge. This is your backyard. You know the area and you know the players. And according to my friends at Langley, you’re one of the best operatives in the region.”

  “There are people here who might argue with that.” She sat back, reaching for her drink again, suddenly feeling as if she needed the fortification. “So what else did they tell you about me?” Clearly the lack of information disseminated had been limited to her side of the equation.

  “That you’re something of a loner. And that you don’t play well with others.” He took a sip of whiskey. “Although based on what I saw earlier when you were playing pool, I’d say maybe they had it wrong.”

  “Only their semantics.” She shrugged, meeting his gaze head-on. “It’s not playing with others that’s the problem. It’s working with them. I’d just rather do it myself.”

  His smile widened, his teeth white against his dark skin. “I don’t know that I can argue with that. Even after all my years working in tandem with others, some of them the best in the business, I still believe the only person you can truly count on is yourself.”

  “Not exactly the company mantra.”

  “Hardly. But then truth be told, we’re not really expected to color within the lines, are we?”

  She shook her head, answering his smile with one of her own. “No. Although we’re definitely supposed to stay in the vicinity.” She’d found that out the hard way, her initiative costing far more than any benefit that might have been gained.

  “And I take it that hasn’t always been the case,” he said, uncannily reading her mind. But then she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. Avery Solomon didn’t seem the type to miss anything, even the things people thought they kept buried inside.

  It should have made her uncomfortable, but for some reason it had the opposite effect, actually making her respect him—something she always found difficult to do. In fact, she could count the number of people she respected on one hand, and most of those she’d known for a hell of a long time. She’d met Avery only a couple of hours ago.

  All of which still pointed again to the possibility that she’d lost her mind.

  “Yeah, well, I’ve never been known for doing something just because someone tells me it should be done,” she said. “I’d rather be sure it truly needs doing first. I grew up around politicos, and believe me, I’ve learned to recognize bullshit when I see it.”

  “An admirable trait.” Again he surprised her with his reaction. “So how long do you think it will take us to get there?”

  “To Shrum?” she asked, pulling her mind away from her wild ramblings and back to the task at hand. “It’ll take a day—maybe a day and a half to get up the river.”

  “Why so long? It took less time than that to get here from China.”

  “You were coming downriver, and the weather was good. We’ll be heading upstream, and if we get caught in a squall, we might have to stop for the night. It’s not safe to run a boat once it gets dark.”

  “Pirates?” he asked, looking interested but not particularly perturbed.

  “They can be a problem, yes. Especially since we’ll be traveling right through the heart of Wai Yan’s territory.”

  “Wai Yan.” Avery said with a frown. “Name is familiar.”

  “It should be. He’s the leader of one of the stronger cartels. Family based. He took over for his father about two years ago. And he’s been working diligently since then to expand the business. Usually by force.”

  “And he doesn’t take kindly to strangers in his waters.”

  “Exactly. Although he knows me. And there’s a sort of grudging truce. As long as he believes I’m not a threat.”

  “So if he isn’t a threat, then who is?”

  “The river. Her waters can be treacherous, deep and still one moment, rocky and shallow the next. And with the rains, the problems are only exacerbated. It’s hard enough to manage in daylight. But in darkness…only a fool would attempt it.”

  “Spoken like a true river pilot.”

  “It’s all part of the service.” She tipped an imaginary hat at him, realizing that she was coming perilously close to flirting. “Anyway,” she said, with a shake of her head, “after we make landfall, it’s like I said, it shouldn’t take us more than a couple of hours to reach Shrum’s compound. Of course that’s assuming we don’t run into trouble on the way.”

  “Are you sure you’re up for this? I wasn’t kidding about no reinforcements. We’ll be on our own.”

  “I’m always on my own.” Her smile was a little hollow, and she wondered why the thought gave her pause. She’d never minded before. At least that’s what she’d always told herself. It helped her deal. “And as you’ve already pointed out—that’s how I prefer it. Besides, I’ve got a cover to maintain.”

  “So when do we leave?”

  “No reason to wait,” she said, already calculating the things she needed to do. “In fact, with the weather closing in, I’d say better to get on it. I’ll have to do a little legwork first—check my intel and lay in supplies—but I’d say we should be able to head out by mid-morning. Which, with luck on our side, should get us to the landing point before dark.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” He lifted his glass. “To adventure.”

  “And to finding whatever it is that you’re looking for,” she responded, clinking her glass with his.

  Avery swallowed, the motion rippling the muscles in his throat as a shadow chased across his face. Then, with a sigh, he set his glass down, lifting his troubled gaze to hers. “You know my mother always used to tell me that I should be careful what I pray for. Maybe it’s best that I not find anything at all.”

  * * *

  At least Sydney had kept her word. She’d managed to arrange everything so that the two of them were off before noon. And as such, they should have been ma
king good time. Unfortunately, the weather hadn’t gotten the memo. A few miles upriver from the village, the sun had disappeared and the rain had started. Nothing like Avery had ever seen before, a sheet of water so penetrating nothing could escape it.

  “Is it always like this in the rainy season?” he asked, as she fought to steer the boat through the oncoming rush of water that marked the river.

  “Worse.” She grimaced as she fought the wheel against a swell. “This is nothing by comparison. Not that it matters because we’ve still got to deal with what we’ve got.”

  As if to underscore her words, the fall of rain—already an onslaught—seemed to increase, the sheet of water growing, if possible, even more impenetrable. The boat, typical of those found on the rivers of Laos, was low slung, long and lean, the pilot’s cabin, basically a ramshackle wooden lean-to at the bow of the shovel-front power canoe.

  A little farther back, a second wooden canopy was meant to serve as protection for passengers, the boat so narrow that if the seats along both sides were occupied, no one could easily pass by. Behind that, about two-thirds along the length of the boat, was the engine box, surrounded by an open hull for cargo that extended from the engine to the stern of the boat.

  From a distance, the overall effect was comical, the boat looking as if it were running assbackwards. But in reality, the design worked amazingly well, the captain’s upfront position providing the right vantage point for steering past obstacles. Which was exactly what Sydney was doing now.

  Ahead a large rock rose out of the gloom, black and slick with rain. To either side, water gushed, churning white and foamy.

  “Hang on,” she called, her voice whipped away in the wind as she pulled the wheel sharply to the left. “This could get bumpy.”

  “I think that might be an understatement,” Avery observed, reaching out for the railing as the boat rolled suddenly to the starboard side, water splashing onto the deck. Then, just as suddenly, it careened back to the port side, slapping the water with its hull as Sydney struggled to keep the damn thing upright.