Fatal Truth: Shadow Force International by Misty Evans

Author:Misty Evans [Evans, Misty]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Beach Path Publishing, LLC
Published: 2016-01-24T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

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SAVANNA HADN’T EVEN sniffed the wine but her head spun like she’d drank the entire bottle as the black Escalade sped through the night, a bullet train taking her to safety.

At least she hoped safety was still an option.

She clutched the wine bottle like a security blanket, knowing it was stupid and pointless, but needing to hold onto something. Since she didn’t even have a change of underwear or her toothbrush, and she couldn’t exactly grab Coldplay in a tight clench, the wine bottle would have to do.

Streetlights flashed by, the snow appearing crystalized under their glow. Coldplay sat beside her, speaking to a man named Rory on the car phone. Rory relayed instructions concerning the USB drive inserted into her laptop’s side slot once more.

“The car has Wi-Fi,” Rory said, giving Coldplay the password to link to it. “I’ll send you the decryption software once you’re hooked up. Takes a minute or two to download, then you can sit back and relax while it does its thing.”

“Thanks, man.” Coldplay’s face was lit from the laptop’s glowing screen, his brows knit as his fingers typed furiously. “I’ve never seen this level of encryption.”

“I can see what you’re seeing,” Rory replied. “It looks like a cocktail of NSA, DOD, and maybe some Chinese hacker shit thrown in.”

Coldplay’s fingers stopped and he sat back. “Software’s in. How long will it take to decrypt?”

Rory made a hmm noise on his end. “Couple hours minimum, up to a day, max.”

“But the software will crack the decryption, right?”

“No guarantees, but between Bea and me, we’ve never found a code we couldn’t crack. Our software on the black market would be worth billions.”

Head still spinning, Savanna sank farther into the seat, closing her eyes. First, the accident, then the shooting. She’d peeked out and saw…

She wasn’t sure what she’d seen. It had all happened so fast. One minute Coldplay was dodging bullets and the next he was whipping a framed photo at the shooter.

Bile inched up her throat and she massaged the area. The same area the picture frame had slit open on the man.

The blood. There had been so much blood.

Hugging the wine bottle closer, she swallowed the acidic burn. Her mind replayed the scene over and over. How had Coldplay moved so fast, been so accurate?

Like a freaking super soldier.

She hadn’t had much time to think about it, let it all sink in, until now. The hollow hiss of the gun firing—Coldplay had told her the assassin had used a suppressor—and the solid thunk when the bullets tore into the wall still echoed in her head. Coldplay had known what was going to happen before it happened.

How?

Coldplay had admitted to being in the Navy, a trained soldier. It had to be that. But what if…?

An idea took hold in her head, but it was too preposterous. Too coincidental.

You’re reaching for a story where there is none. It had to be the adrenaline. The whole freaking surrealism of the moment.

No matter what, she would not become some conspiracy theorist or drama whore.

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