Operation Zulu Redemption: Hazardous Duty - Part 3 by Ronie Kendig Read Free Book Online Page A

She was so not a morning person, but waking up and finding the geek hovering over her— “Go.” She stomped as she caught his shoulders and pushed him from the room. “Out. Now.”
    “Okay, okay. Relax. I just wanted to make sure you two were okay.”
    “She’s a sniper, remember?”
    “Right,” Houston said.
    Téya closed the door and turned.
    Noodle sat perched on the edge of her bed. “I had a nightmare again, didn’t I?”
    “I think Peeping Houston just wanted to watch you sleep.”
    A small smile tugged Noodle’s face, clearly not believing it.
    “Shower up. I need one, too, and I want to be out of here in fifteen.”
    Noodle complied without another word, her countenance haunted. Though there was no cure, Téya wished she could get hold of something that would heal Noodle’s mind. It was one thing to deal with drama when you had created most of it yourself. It was another to watch a woman as sweet and gentle in nature get ripped apart from the inside out by something out of her control.
    Twelve minutes later, hair still wet and tied back, Téya strode into the main area. “How’re the commander and Boone doing?”
    “In the air. And grumpy. No sign of her yet.”
    “We’re heading down to the cafeteria,” Téya said, noting Houston was distracted with the mission at hand. “Need anything?”
    “Nah, I’m good,” he said, as he adjusted something, then glanced at a monitor.
    Téya nodded to the door, and Nuala made for it. They were in the hall, the door almost closed, when Houston shouted, “Hey! There’s no cafeteria in a hotel—and Trace said to stay put!”
    Laughing, they hurried out of the hotel and back onto the street. Adrenaline thrummed through Téya’s body. She skipped a step as they made their way back toward the slums.
    “Think he’s awake?” Noodle asked.
    “Maybe,” Téya said, her stomach clenching. “I gave him sleeping aids in his water, but who knows if that will keep him under at all.” She hated herself for remembering how toned his abs were and the larger version of the star-crescent over his left, well-defined pectoral.
    “Wouldn’t he flee?”
    She wanted to say nobody with that injury would flee. Maybe stumble out and collapse from the pain. But this wasn’t an ordinary person. This was The Turk. “I hope not. He needs to answer a few questions.”
    “What if he doesn’t speak English?”
    “Then he’s not a very good assassin.”
    “What does speaking English and killing people have to do with each other?”
    “To integrate into someone’s life to figure out how best to kill them, he’d need to master the language.” In theory, at least.
    “I don’t have to speak any language but sniper for a kill shot,” Noodle said, panting as they walked. “And would you
slow
down?”
    Téya rounded the rear of the hotel and jogged to the window. She hesitated at finding it open. Hands on the ledge, she hauled herself inside. The smell of something burnt snagged her senses first. Then the silence.
    “I thought we closed it,” Nuala came in after her. “Whoa.”
    The room had been meticulously rearranged. Bed made up. No sign of blood. No stains on the carpet. No bloody towels. In fact, new ones hung in perfect array on the plastic silver rod. Téya took in the cheap, framed print. Not a trace of dust. “He scrubbed it.”
    “Didn’t want to leave evidence we could use to track him.”
    “We don’t need to. Everyone knows who he is—The Turk.”
    “We know what he wants us to know,” Noodle said as she went into the bathroom. “The last time this bathroom was this clean was probably ten years ago.”
    A rap against the door put Téya’s heart into overdrive. Nuala reappeared and gave a curt nod. They were ready. Téya went to the door, not daring to look through the peephole and end up with a hole in the head. She yanked open the thin barrier.
    Disheveled and drawn, the bearded man looked as surprised as Téya felt. “Are you Miss