Night Moves: A Shadow Force Novel Read online

  Praise for Stephanie Tyler

  and the Shadow Force series

  LIE WITH ME

  “Crafty plot twists and cleverly intertwined relationships dominate book one of master storyteller Tyler’s Shadow Force series … The fun, thrills, and romance never let up, and Tyler delivers on all her promises.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “The first book in Tyler’s Shadow Force series, Lie with Me hits the mark. Tyler constructs seemingly flawless romantic suspense plots rife with danger, intrigue, complicated heroes and strong heroines. It’s the perfect weekend getaway read.”

  —RT Book Reviews (four stars)

  “Get ready for a high-octane ride. Lie with Me is fast, furious, and sexy. I couldn’t put it down.”

  —New York Times bestselling author

  BRENDA NOVAK

  “Red-hot romance. White-knuckle suspense. True-blue military heroes who will leave you breathless. Stephanie Tyler writes with a rare blend of grace and power that will keep you coming back for more. Absolutely fantastic, and not to be missed.”

  —New York Times bestselling author

  LARA ADRIAN

  PROMISES IN THE DARK

  “Red-hot sparks [ignite] copious and satisfying fireworks.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Tyler is a master of suspense. Book two in the Shadow Force series has the same intense level of steamy passion and gut-clenching suspense as its predecessor, Lie with Me. A gripping and complex plot mingles well with complicated and emotional characters.”

  —RT Book Reviews (four stars)

  “Fans of action-adventure romantic suspense will thoroughly enjoy Promises in the Dark. Ms. Tyler has written an action-packed story filled with complex emotions and deep passions. Olivia and Zane, both wounded in their own ways, make an intriguing couple. Unresolved secondary plot lines will leave you eagerly anticipating the next book in the series, In the Air Tonight.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  Night Moves is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  A Dell Mass Market Original

  Copyright © 2011 by Stephanie Tyler

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States by Dell, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

  DELL is a registered trademark of Random House, Inc., and the colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.

  eISBN: 978-0-440-42306-5

  Cover design: Lynn Andreozzi

  Cover illustration: Blake Morrow

  www.bantamdell.com

  v3.1

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  Dedication

  Other Books by This Author

  PROLOGUE

  Kell Roberts had been at the foster home in Dillingham, Alaska, for three months, four days and sixteen hours and had managed to lie his way through every damned minute when the blond kid arrived with a deep Southern drawl, a bag Kell would later discover contained barely anything and an attitude as big as the hills, all to share Kell’s room. He barely acknowledged Kell’s existence, got into bed and didn’t get up for twenty-four hours straight.

  Kell didn’t think enough of it to ask anyone his name. Roommates came and went here and he’d always found it better to not get involved.

  On the second day, Kell’s wallet went missing, along with various and sundry other items, and although Kell had no proof other than his gut that it was the work of the blond kid, it left him alternately pissed and impressed.

  On the third day, the blond kid registered for school and never made it to his first class because the counselor who met with him recommended homeschooling, deeming the kid unfit for a school environment due to the undue negative influence he had over other students in previous environments.

  On the fourth night, Kell woke up to find his new roommate climbing out of the third-floor window. He followed the Louisiana-born boy with the deep drawl to their foster mom’s four-wheel-drive truck and wondered how he thought he could take it for a ride during an icy storm. And then he decided he needed to see how much of a death wish Blond Kid had.

  He’d always had a pretty big one himself.

  Blond Kid, who he’d soon find out was named Reid, had the truck hot-wired by the time Kell pushed into the passenger’s side. “You’re going to kill yourself.”

  Reid glanced at him coolly. “And you’re coming along for the ride?”

  Kell answered by shutting the door and securing his seatbelt. Reid didn’t bother to follow suit.

  “I want my fucking wallet back,” Kell said finally, and Reid laughed as the car skidded down the long driveway, leaving Kell feeling as out of control as he’d ever been and strangely liberated at the same time. “Where are we going?”

  “There’s got to be a bar around here somewhere.”

  “They all card.” Both boys were tall for their age but no way were they passing for twenty-one. What the hell was this kid thinking?

  “I borrowed some ID,” Reid said with a calm drawl, like he didn’t have a care in the world. Kell knew that was complete bullshit and was quick to learn that in Reid’s vocabulary, borrow meant steal.

  Kell had grown up with that type of vocabulary as well.

  Reid drove for about ten minutes with surprising skill, and then the car skidded and Kell saw his life flashing before his eyes, just like everyone said it did. The sad part was, beyond remembering all the cons he’d learned to pull over the years, there wasn’t really much else. He heard Reid cursing throughout the slide and then he came to and they were in the ditch.

  Reid was unconscious and the police would no doubt be called by passing motorists, so Kell got out of the car and he started walking back to the house, covering his footprints behind him because he wasn’t taking the blame for anyone else.

  Everyone in this world is out for themselves—that’s the way you have to live, son—look out for yourself and screw everyone else.

  He remembered, in that brief moment, that his parents had included him in that sentiment. It was the reason he’d turned them in and ended up in a foster home in Alaska instead of with them.

  He returned to the car and hauled Reid out, knowing nothing about spinal injuries and not moving unconscious people. All he knew was that he wouldn’t leave Reid behind to shoulder the blame alone, even though the damned kid had stolen his wallet. He still hadn’t known the blond kid’s name until he’d opened his eyes and mumbled it, because Kell had finally asked.

  “This state sucks,” Reid mumbled then and closed his eyes to stop the tears. Kell pretended not to notice and then, a few minutes later, Reid was up, leaning on him as they walked the frigid mile back to the foster home.

  Kell’s parents would be so damned disappointed in him yet again—he’d saved Reid’s ass so he’d definitely been born with the conscience they lacked.

  Well, shit, y
ou did learn something new every day.

  They caught hell, of course. The foster mom was not stupid, although she did protect them from the police. It took Reid and him the better part of six months to work off the damage to the car, piecing it back together with the local mechanic and honing their skills in the process.

  It was Reid’s fourth foster home in the space of a year, and Kell’s first and only. They lasted out another full year before emancipating and heading out to work along the docks of the Bering Sea, punishing, cruel work.

  It was nowhere near as bad as the work that would follow, but being young and strong with a death wish would always work in their favor.

  CHAPTER

  1

  FOURTEEN YEARS LATER

  The stolen Jeep, courtesy of Reid, was parked away from the road while Kell and Reid lay, belly-down, twenty feet apart in the middle of the long stretch of desert road west of Ciudad Juarez in Chihuahua, Mexico.

  The pitch-black road the drug kingpin they were after traveled weekly.

  The night smelled like smoke and danger. Kell could taste both on his tongue; the familiar tingle began in his spine and Reid murmured in his miked ear, “Any minute now and the little chicken’s going to cross the road.”

  Not much had changed in fourteen years. These days, Reid’s accent had mellowed; only when he was tired or angry did the deep drawl emerge, although Reid himself hadn’t mellowed at all.

  These days, Kell was still trying to balance the genes of his grifter parents by not caring for too many damned people while still using those skills to their fullest. He used to work jobs for Delta Force so highly classified that they didn’t exist on paper and their existence would be denied to anyone outside of the men performing the task. Now he was out of the Army and doing black ops missions that were still as highly deniable—and just as deadly.

  This one was no exception. Six days in the hot Mexican sun and cool nights reconning for the perfect opportunity was neither fun nor safe, but it was necessary.

  Juarez was a city of heaven and hell, depending on what you were looking for. The land surrounding it was a target-rich environment for illegals, slave traders, drug runners and the like—their last chance before they had to try to cross the official border.

  The man they were after had no need to cross—his empire was a million-dollar enterprise and he worked out of Juarez and lived in a mansion in the hills.

  That man was their payoff and he was finally here, about six klicks away, driving at a normal rate of speed so as not to catch the attention of cops or robbers. But Kell knew this was no simple nightly joyride.

  His belly tightened, as it always did at the height of the chase. “Two in the cab—Rivera riding shotgun, his bodyguard at the wheel,” he confirmed, and why was Rivera sitting up front?

  Kell shifted, waited until they closed the distance and focused in on the backseat.

  No way—they couldn’t be this damned lucky today. “It’s Cruz.” Which was a jackpot … except for the tall blonde in ripped cargo pants and a tank top showing underneath a loosely buttoned denim shirt running along the side of the road at top speed toward Cruz’s car, trying to stay out of sight and not exactly succeeding.

  Kell would have to be the one to tell her that her time might’ve just run out.

  Hi, couldja run in the other direction because you’re about to blow a carefully planned op out of the fucking water with your sweet swinging hips, and yeah, he needed a woman, and soon.

  Just not this soon.

  “Problem,” he muttered.

  “Take care of it,” Reid growled through the earpiece from his position down the small embankment, the way he’d been growling this entire trip.

  Yeah, sure, take care of it. “Who the hell runs around Mexico all by themselves at night like this?”

  “Idiots. And operatives,” Reid answered.

  She was no operative and Kell would soon find out about the idiot part, but he suspected whatever or whomever she was running from wasn’t what this op needed.

  “It’s a woman.”

  “We are dealing with the Mexican Cartel, Kell, not trying to get laid.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Kell muttered, and Reid cursed at him and the next thing he knew Reid was coming toward him and it was easier not to argue. Kell was usually the control freak in these situations, always had been, and since Reid was typically out of control, it all worked out.

  But since Reid had nearly died on the last official op he was on, the roles had reversed. Kell had gone off looking for revenge like a one-man killing machine and it had taken a long while to reel himself back in.

  Some days, he felt as if he’d never left the jungle, wore his knife on his arm both in the shower and while he slept, refused to let his guard down and generally felt as though he’d come unhinged and couldn’t be put back together properly. What’s more, he didn’t want to be. Running wild suited him, suited the missions he would be part of the foreseeable future.

  It also made Reid nervous as hell—but then, Reid had been doing that to him for years, and payback truly was a bitch.

  “I can take the shot,” Reid said, and the car was just the right distance for either man to do it … except the woman running directly at them had blown that.

  If nothing else, they didn’t want any witnesses, and she’d sped up when she’d heard the sound of the car. But if he was honest with himself, the frightened woman seemed to bring out a chivalry in him he no longer wanted.

  “Abort,” Kell said sharply and Reid cursed again as he hustled toward him in the dark. They’d been waiting for hours in position, sanctioned by two governments to take out Rivera.

  But Cruz … that would’ve been a hell of a get.

  A pipe dream now, since the woman was on target to run directly into him in less than five seconds.

  Shit. He scrambled up just in time for her not to trip over him. He caught her against him, instead, and she started fighting him, clawing and kicking, and he nearly lost his balance and rolled down the small embankment.

  Fortunately, Reid steadied them both, and she stopped fighting for a second, enough for Kell to get a hold on her.

  “Who the fuck are you?” Kell snarled in her ear, using cruelty to suss out whether or not she was a plant … and that made the woman struggle harder. He smelled the fear on her and decided that she was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, and his grip loosened a little.

  Whoever she was, she might as well be wearing a Kidnap Me sign and so what to do with her now wasn’t even a question—they couldn’t leave her here. She was prey for just about anyone in this country, including himself.

  “Car. Down,” Reid said, and dropped. Kell did the same, had the woman on the ground in seconds, a hand covering her mouth as the car with Cruz flew by, spilling light over where they’d stood seconds before.

  She was pushing against him and trying to bite his hand as Reid was telling him, “We’ve got to follow—catch them around the hill.”

  It was risky … just the kind of mission Kell liked, but not with the add-along of a freaked-out woman. One who’d ruined their perfect shot simply by running in front of their target.

  One who was someone else’s target, and Kell couldn’t risk her getting hurt if she was innocent.

  To that end, he directed his next words to her. “Who are you running from?”

  He took his hand from her mouth so she could answer, but she didn’t. He rolled off her and helped her to her feet. It was pitch black and she didn’t have NVs, so she was lost. She was breathing hard, her bag was on the ground somewhere by Reid’s feet and when she didn’t answer, he grabbed it and started to rifle through it, looking for ID.

  Nothing. No wallet or passport or money. Just a change of clothing, a key to a motel room and a brush. And a loaded, illegal handgun—a quick swipe with his thumb had found the roughness where the serial number had been ground off and Kell swiftly unloaded the chamber and pocketed the bullets without her not
icing, since she was now staring at Reid, who was muttering and cursing to himself while he checked maps on his phone. He handed her the bag and she focused her attention back on him.

  She took it, wound it around her shoulder and, finally, she managed to speak. “Please—I need help. A ride …” She stopped talking, put her palms on her thighs and leaned over, trying to catch her breath.

  “Do we look like a taxi service?” he asked. “What the hell are you doing out here alone?”

  She ignored the question. “I need to get to the border now.” Fear kept her voice tremulous and no doubt her body shook from both it and the exertion.

  “Not happening.”

  Her breathing wasn’t getting any easier. “Please,” she said again. “I … need to know …”

  “Honey, we have no time for manners—spit it out,” Kell told her.

  “Are you … the good guys?”

  He looked at Reid and then back at her. “That depends on whose side you’re on.”

  She didn’t ask any more questions, and seconds later he heard the low rumble of an oncoming vehicle. “More company.”

  “Ours? Or for her?” Reid asked even as he scanned with the NVs, and it really didn’t matter at this point because Kell hated this shit, did not want some girl—woman, whatever—needing his help when he was in the middle of an op.

  Worst timing ever. And it took a lot to be able to say that.

  “For … me.” She sat herself on the ground, drawing in harsh breaths and close to hyperventilating—and he and Reid hit the floor too. He pushed her down, lay over her for camouflage as the old truck rumbled by slowly, surveying the side of the road. Kell caught a glimpse of NVs before he put his head down and let them pass.

  When the truck was far enough down the road, he moved so he was crouching over her and that’s when he noticed the bloodstain on the shoulder of her shirt. He tried to rouse her, but she’d passed out sometime after hitting the ground.

  “She’s in shock,” he told Reid. He carried her over to the Jeep and put her in the backseat, checking under the denim shirt she wore and finding a flesh wound—a nick from a flying bullet. Reid was next to him, passing him a gauze pad to stop the bleeding until they could get to safer ground.