Free Fall Read Online Free

bullets.
    Stella’s eyes went wide with perfectly played innocence and horror. “I don’t know what you want from me. I’ll tell you everything I know. Can I just have some water first, please?”
    The guard hooked his hand on the strap of his automatic rifle slung over his shoulder. “We want to know who you are.” His accent was clearly local, Somali most likely. “Why were you and your fellow spies on our property?”
    “I’ve told you already. My name is Stella. I’m a foreign exchange student. These are my friends in the same program, but we’re all from different schools. We were on a day trip when you found us, a study on ways to improve distribution of food during a famine. We only wanted to help.” She backed step by step until she bumped a table of ancient pottery. “I’m begging you, can I just go home?”
    “You must think we are very stupid.” The bald guard blocked the doorway out. “I do not like to be insulted.”
    “I don’t like being taken captive.” Her hand slid to the table, her fingers closing over a broken handle off a cup. She tucked the remnant into the back of her waistband. “I want to call my embassy.”
    She tugged her T-shirt as if for emphasis, effectively hiding her makeshift weapon. Pride filled him. Damn, she was amazing.
    His mind raced back to the first time he’d seen her when he’d hauled himself out of the sea and into the rescue boat. She’d been at the wheel, holding the boat steady against the hammering waves, unbending with the wind tearing at her fiery red braid. There’d been bullets, a blown up chopper, and blood streaking down her face.
    Not a romantic meeting by any stretch.
    Their sprint through the marketplace to the embassy had left them both weary as hell, wrung dry by the job. Afterward, he’d found her on the embassy roof, grieving for the aircrew of the downed chopper. That explosion had shaken him more than a little too.
    He’d been planning to have his one cigar a month to decompress. He’d taken up smoking when he kicked the booze, then had to kick nicotine as best he could. One cigar a month when stress got to be too much wasn’t the best option, but it didn’t drag him back under the way one drink would. So he carried a Cuban smoke in his pocket at all times. He’d had it half out when he stepped onto the roof… and then he’d found Stella.
    He hadn’t smoked a cigar since.
    Their attraction had been immediate. Explosive. Their five-month affair had been frenetic as they “dated” wherever their paths crossed on missions and assignments throughout the Horn of Africa and farther along the Eastern region, even over as far as Uganda. They’d lived on the edge, drunk on an edgy attraction that provided a greater high than could be found in any bottle.
    Until they’d crashed. Broken up. Ripped each other’s heart out.
    A quick elbow jab to his side brought him back to the present. He looked sharply at his team bud—Tech Sergeant Gavin “Bubbles” Novak—nodding toward the images again. Screen three filled with a male stretched out on the floor, a student beaten to a pulp for information who appeared to be hanging on by a thread.
    Stella knelt beside the pummeled student, her hands going to each wound as if to make sure to document every injury for the rescue team watching. Her gaze was so intense.
    Something tugged at him, but he couldn’t pinpoint what. From her position, her back to the enemy’s camera, she clearly meant to hide something from her captors watching. She stared up into the bug, her blinking strange, erratic. Was she drugged? He watched closer, searching, slowly realizing…
    Holy crap, there was a pattern.
    Jose held up a hand, snapping his fingers for attention. “Agent Smith, get a close-up on her face there. Do you see? She’s blinking.”
    “Yeah, and your point, Sergeant?”
    “She’s blinking Morse code.” The longer he looked, the more certain he became. “Like the Navy pilot captured during the