Page 73 of Stealthy Seduction
Steele’s heart hammered against his ribs. For a moment, he couldn’t catch his breath to speak. Finally, he grated out, “Status?”
“She’s alive. Sitting in what looks like a modified shipping container. Hands are bound.”
“Look at her thumb. Is it tucked inside her fist?”
“Yeah, it’s tucked. But Steele…” Dante’s voice carried a note of grim recognition. “The guy with her—it’s not one of Cipher’s lackeys. It’s fucking Cipher himself. Holy shit, man. We’re looking at Daniel Sheen in the flesh.”
The confirmation slammed into Steele like a physical blow. His blood chilled, as if evil had stroked a finger through his veins. Then it heated in a flashing scald that left his face burning.
Bad enough that Izzy had been lured in, but knowing she was face-to-face with the architect of so much death and destruction made his vision blur with rage.
He swallowed against the painful brick in his throat, and his voice sounded as a rough rasp. “How’s she look?”
“Can’t see her face well. She’s turned away. But I can see her profile. Looks like she’s talking.” Several beats of silence passed. At last, Dante said, “I can’t believe this. She’s actually talking to him. Oh…fuck.”
“What happened!” He stomped the gas pedal to the floor.
“She turned her head. That look on her face. I’ve seen it before—Steele, she’sinterviewinghim.”
Despite everything, Steele felt a surge of fierce pride. Even in captivity, even facing a monster who’d orchestrated the deaths of countless innocent people, Izzy was being Izzy—asking questions, seeking truth.
Refusing to be cowed.
“The bastard’s enjoying it,” Dante continued. “Cold as ice, completely relaxed. This guy’s a stone-cold psychopath, Steele.”
Which meant Cipher wouldn’t hesitate to kill her the second he thought they were closing in.
Steele took a hard right onto the highway, the city lights blurring past as he pushed the vehicle to its limits. “I need details. What’s my best approach?”
Dante didn’t waste a second. “There’s a warehouse complex about two hundred meters east of the container yard. Five-story brick building, flat roof with clear sight lines to the target. If you’re going to take a shot, that’s your best bet.”
“Range?”
“Uh… Four hundred thirty meters, give or take. Moderate crosswind from the northwest. You’ll have to account for the harbor breeze, but it’s doable.”
Steele’s mind shifted into the cold, analytical state that had kept him alive through hundreds of operations. Four hundred thirty meters was well within his capabilities with his sniper rifle.
One shot, clean and precise, and this nightmare would be over.
As he pulled into the industrial complex surrounding the warehouse, his commanding officer’s voice exploded through his earpiece.
“Steele, where the hell are you? GPS shows you’re nowhere near base.”
Fuck. The last thing he needed.
“I’m handling it, Con.”
“You’re ordered to stand down and return to base immediately. That’s a direct order.”
“Negative.” The word came out flat, final. “I’m going to get her back.”
“Goddamn it, Steele! You’re compromising the entire operation. This is what Cipher wants—he’s using her as bait to draw us into a trap.”
“Maybe. But I’m not walking away.”
There was a pause, then Con’s voice came back harder than Steele had ever heard it. “You do this, you’re on your own. No backup, no extraction, no support. You understand that?”
“Copy that.”
